Second Life Again
by Princepen
Summary: AU: Picard returns from the Q Continuum after eleven years of captivity. Will he choose to reclaim his life, or turn his back on humanity as it faces the ultimate peril? *This will be an "enhanced" version of a story I posted in 2013, "Second Life", which is probably my favorite story I posted on FF, and was so fun to write. Thank you for reading
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

 **The Continuum**

"Do you know why we have called you here?"

"No."

"And that bothers you… that you do not know, doesn't it?

He studied the glowing lights surrounding him, no longer in awe of their beauty, as before. "My intellect is supposed to be limitless, of course it bothers me that I don't know your intentions."

"Our intentions have always been good, whether you recognize it or not. Now even as a Q, your life is limitless, as are your powers to manipulate and shape nature. However, your intellect, your ability to know all… still has limits."

"Why do you speak so condescendingly, as if I were somehow less than the other Q? I have paid my dues, just as you have."

"So you _have_ paid your dues," said the Q. "Perhaps more than any other. But your time with us has come to an end."

He laughed. "This is a falsity! Another test, no doubt?"

"No," they said, and for the first time, he heard a real sadness in their collective tone. "The time has come for you to return to your own kind."

"My kind? What kind? I have no other kind but Q."

"Many years ago in your time, but less than an instant in our time, you agreed to join us in exchange for the life of your friend. Now you must return to your old life, your old ways of being. Your friends need you."

"I refuse," he shouted to them. "I have no old life, no connection to those people, and certainly I have no _friends_. I am not _like_ them anymore… don't you understand?"

The sparkling lights began to withdraw one by one until he was standing alone amidst a white landscape.

"Where are you going?" he called out to them.

In a flash, who should appear beside him, but perhaps his only last remaining friend?

He turned to face Q. "This is just another test isn't it? I will succeed, Q, I am not concerned."

"Perhaps you will succeed in another way, but not as Q. You heard them. It's time to go."

"Wait!" he pleaded. "Let me show them I can be the way…the way they want me to be. Let me keep my powers."

"Oh that makes no sense at all," said Q. "Really… you can do better than that," Q said almost encouragingly, a sentiment that was unusual for Q.

He paced away, clenching his fists. "What can I do to show that I deserve to be in the Continuum?"

Q stared at him. "That is really all that matters to you now, isn't it?"

"Yes! Yes," he repeated a little less stridently. "That is all I care about."

"Well perhaps that is why they no longer consider you to be Q," observed Q.

"Are you trying to tell me you are somehow more noble? That you don't also desire to be in the Continuum?"

"Well, of course I desire it…but then I was born to be a Q, and you, you're more of an _experiment_. And a failed one, apparently…"

Q started to walk away, and then turned back suddenly. "Suppose we made another deal, you know…just between us—Q to Q."

"What kind of deal?"

"Well, you'll keep most of your Q intellect. At least you will retain the knowledge you've gathered over all these years…which is considerable. Certainly you will bury any other human with that intellect. But you won't be able to see into the future. And it goes without saying that because you're no longer immortal…you will die someday…"

"And my other powers?" All of this was so unfair. Imagine a Q having to beg like this.

Q made a point of appearing to ponder the question. "You will have three chances to use your power. It may take only one use to prove you are worthy to remain with the Q; or it may take two or three uses. But you will only have three opportunities to prove you should remain a Q. And of course, there is always the chance that you will fail to use your power to our satisfaction—"

"You mean, to _your_ satisfaction. As you said, the deal is between just us two Q," he said.

"Ah yes…as I was saying, should you fail to utilize your power to _my_ satisfaction, your entry back into the Continuum would be forever barred."

For the first time in years, he began to feel fear. "Why are the Q doing this? What have I done wrong?"

"Oh quit groveling! All you must know is that when the Q do something it is for a reason. There is a reason that you are being returned at this particular time, and as you will see, in a very particular place."

"I don't care about that reason. I only care about remaining where I am—who I am."

Q walked closer and stared into his eyes. Unexpectedly, Q smiled. "Just wait until your friends see what a horrible human being you have become." He snapped his fingers, and with a flash it was all over.

* * *

 **2365** **USS _Enterprise_**

Jack Crusher examined his face in the mirror. Overall it was a good looking face, and always had been. Two weeks ago he had turned forty-four, and somehow he already felt twenty years older. Touching a horizontal line on his forehead he found that when he smiled at his reflection in the mirror, the line smoothed out, disappearing for a moment. The truth was Jack didn't smile very much lately; but he hoped that would soon change.

When she arrived in a few days everything would change. Just the thought of her reappearance gave him pause and made his heart skip a nervous beat. He felt underneath his jaw and was dismayed to feel a double chin in development. He patted the little bit of excess weight around his middle and sighed. Would she notice that he had put on weight? After all these years together and now just one year of separation it seemed odd to him that he would think of this now, for the first time.

It had been almost exactly one year since she had left him, announcing to him with quiet resignation that she had come to realize that his life's plans were too focused on his career to include her any longer. He had protested, he had even cried, but it hadn't been a surprise; she had threatened to leave him before for the same reasons. But the fact that it hadn't been a surprise didn't mean her departure hadn't nearly crushed the life out of him. That was what she had always meant to him: life.

And now, she was returning to him in just a few days. She had agreed to give it another try. Every day he thanked the stars that Wesley had agreed to stay with him on the _Enterprise_ until he and Beverly worked it out. For a sixteen year old he was remarkably mature and sensitive, something Jack knew Wesley had inherited from Beverly.

He turned away from the mirror, and then paused for a moment, leaning against the sink. In two days it would also be the eleventh anniversary of Jean-Luc's disappearance, or as Jack had come to accept years ago: Jean-Luc's death. He told himself that it was merely a coincidence that these events had converged. Of course, Jack knew Beverly had never accepted that Jean-Luc was dead. She had read the reports over and over until her review of them became obsessive, and later almost disturbingly clinical as she memorized each detail.

She had finally concluded that he had been abducted by an entity. But Jack had been there, and he knew what had happened. The same glowing object that enveloped Jean-Luc in light had hovered next to Jack, about to kill him. Jean-Luc had screamed no, and that was when the light attacked him instead. He hung suspended and frozen for a matter of seconds, and then disappeared. There was no disputing that whatever it was that had nearly killed Jack that day had diverted its path and instead taken Jean-Luc. For years he had agonized over why it hadn't been him. The guilt at times had been like a weight pressing down from above; or more often, something awful pulling him downward from below.

Beverly rarely mentioned Jean-Luc anymore, not even on the anniversary. That is, she did not mention him to Jack, but he knew that when Wesley had questions, which he sometimes did, she would tell her son anything he wanted to know. But she didn't need to say a single word. Jack knew everything.

He'd always known everything that had to do with Beverly and Jean-Luc. At least, from the time of Wesley's birth, it had all been made entirely and painfully clear to him. Over the years, the pain had lessened, but Jack had sworn he would leave her if she revealed her secret to Jean-Luc. And then one day when Wesley was not even five years old, Jean-Luc disappeared. And it was suddenly as though they had to tell Wesley…even though he was very young, they had to tell him the truth. They did it to honor Jean-Luc.

In the past, Jack and Beverly had taken a day to celebrate the life of Jean-Luc Picard, privately, when Wesley was not around. Despite their truthfulness with Wesley, they didn't want him to dwell on the pain of it, as they both had for so many years.

Silently, Jack Crusher crept to the doorway. Ever since Beverly had left, sometimes Jack would sit just outside the door to Wesley's bedroom, reading a book or just sitting quietly when he knew Wesley was sleeping. If Wesley knew, he hadn't said anything. There again was the maturity. Lately, Jack relied on this.

"Dad?" Wesley turned over in his bed groggily. He rubbed his eyes. "Hey. What time is it?"

Jack winced. "Sorry, kid. It's about 4am."

Wesley pushed himself up on an elbow. "What's wrong, Dad? Can't sleep?"

Jack shook his head, but realized Wesley could probably not see him in the dark. "It's alright. Everything is going to be alright soon."

Wesley sighed. "Dad…were you thinking about Mom?"

Jack came in and sat down on Wesley's bed. "Yeah, I'm a little nervous, son. You know she's going to be here in just a few days." He laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You know how I get."

As their eyes adjusted to the light he saw Wesley smile. "I guess I'm pretty excited about it too," he admitted. His expression sobered slightly. "But Dad, no matter what happens I know it will be alright." He was excited to see his Mom, but was also nervous about how much his Dad was expecting from his Mom. As much as he wanted her to return to the Enterprise, more than that, he wanted them both to be happy. "Things change, but we're still a family."

Jack wiped underneath his eye feeling more than a little emotional. "I know we are. Come here," he said and drew Wesley into a hug. Letting go of him, he stood up and backed out of the room. "Good night, and sorry I woke you," he said turning to leave.

* * *

Wesley turned back over and stared at the wall in the darkness. In a few days she would be here, but he could not help but think that in a few days that other day would also be here. Each year it got worse, and he would think about him, dream about him as though he were someone who was still in existence, instead of a stranger from the past. Reaching out, his hand fell on a small round device on his nightstand. Engaging in an almost nightly habit, he pressed it lightly, and a shimmering holo image appeared about ten inches high. There he stood, back straight, mouth set in a tight line, commanding as ever. His father.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

 ** _USS Hood_**

"Will...Will...Will…" she repeated. She groaned sleepily and poked him in the shoulder again, but a loud snort from him just confirmed how asleep he really was. How he couldn't hear the incessant and completely distinctive beeping she had no idea, but somehow she was always the first to wake up. Finally she said directly into his year using her best bridge voice: "You have an incoming message from Starfleet Command." Of course, that did it.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm awake," he declared, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes. And then turned and looked over his shoulder at his wife, who had already settled back under the covers. "Thanks babe," he said, getting to his feet and stretching.

"Anytime," mumbled Deanna and turned over drowsily in an attempt to go back to sleep.

Will walked over to his communications console and waved his palm over the blinking green light, answering the call. He leaned his lanky frame down to stare into the screen expectantly.

"Captain Riker," said the petite but severe looking woman who appeared on the screen a moment later. "I hope I didn't wake you." He couldn't help but note the obvious lack of concern in her tone.

"No, Admiral Nechayev. It's a pleasure as always to see you."

She ignored his attempt at charm. "Good," she confirmed. "Sleep is for the unambitious."

With Nechayev every word was a potential jab. What a wonderful way to wake up in the early, early morning. Riker could summon no suitable response to this, so he remained silent and rubbed his chin, where he had recently shaved off his beard. Deanna seemed exuberant that it was gone, but he realized now it had helped him think. Or at least, it had helped him to have the appearance of thinking.

"Let me get right to the point Riker," the Admiral said. "It's happened again."

 _Damn._ Unfortunately he knew exactly what "it" she was talking about.

"Again?" was all he could manage, as images from the last discovery entered his mind.

She nodded. "Right under our noses- in fact, not far from where you are now. The planet is Delvora in the Hydra system," she said.

"So we are the closest ship then..." Why were so many incidents of this kind happening in the Neutral Zone?

"Yes. Take the _Hood_ and investigate. Get yourselves in and out of there as quickly as you can and then proceed to the coordinates I am transmitting to you right now. I must stress that _all_ we want out of this is more information Riker, and quickly."

"Yes sir. Will we be following the same procedures for survivors, Admiral?"

She fixed him with a pointed look. "Based on your last encounter, Captain, are you honestly expecting any survivors?" She didn't even wait for him to answer before signing off.

He stood there for a moment and began the task of mental preparation for the next mission. When he turned around, Deanna was sitting up in bed, wide awake, and he saw his own fears reflected in her eyes.

* * *

 **Elsewhere…**

He was afraid it would hurt, and it did. Not so much the physical pain, but the humiliation of losing something he did not deserve to lose. To add insult to injury, the Q had dropped him down somewhere, naked. He shut his eyes, refusing to look at his flawed, human body. He wasn't about to waste one of only three chances to use his power in order to fashion himself some clothes.

In truth, he no longer had anything resembling shame or even the slightest inhibition. He simply resented any reminder of his mortality. No longer able to shimmer away in a point of light if he so wished, or to transform into anything else that he chose, left him dismayed.

He looked around him, and saw what had happened. Of course he had seen their work before, which meant he was most likely the only living thing plant or animal, left on this planet. He had seen this kind of devastation before. He had even prevented it on occasion.

But what now, and why here? What could the Q possibly intend him to do? Somehow the cold of this planet was making it difficult to use his vast intellect. He started shivering. Of all the outrages! He crouched down hugged his knees, leaning his side against a craggy rock. "Ow!" His skin was too sensitive for this harsh environment. It was like being born all over again except he didn't want to be born again….

"Q! This isn't the slightest bit amusing!" The wind whistling through his ears was the only answer to his complaints. His teeth chattered now at an alarming rate.

He struggled to focus his mind over the many discomforts of his newly mortal body. Should he use his power to leave the planet? Did the Q want him to bring back the inhabitants of this planet? Did they want him to be selfish, or noble? What would it take to please them?

And then, as if things could not get worse, with nowhere to hide, it began to rain. He ducked his head. It was not a cool misty rain from his childhood, but a heavy, black polluted rain, caused no doubt by the horrendous set of events which had just taken place on this planet. He crouched down lower, hugging his knees and felt the rain pelting his naked back. And for the first time in what seemed like eons, he felt the numbing sensation of cold.

* * *

 **The Continuum**

"What game are you playing with the human now, Q?"

"No game at all. He has been released as was ordered."

"He is still not aware of the one truth we kept from him."

"Had we told him that truth, he might never have stayed with us for so long," said Q.

"He is so completely blind that even when confronted with it, he will not accept it. He may even believe it to be a lie."

"That may be so. He has believed himself to be all-knowing for so very long. He no longer appreciates the things that used to make him human."

"We did what had to be done," said Q.

"That is true," said Q.

* * *

 **2365 Paris, Earth**

"Marie, I want to thank you again for taking on this responsibility. I will feel so much better knowing that while I am gone, you will be looking after the school."

Marie Picard reached across the table in the small café, and squeezed Beverly Crusher's hand affectionately. "How many times do I have to tell you, Beverly? You are family."

Beverly smiled. "I know, I know, but…you've always been there for me, and your friendship has meant so much."

Marie laughed. "You sound as though you are going away forever, my dear."

Beverly laughed and glanced at the time almost guiltily. She had to be back at Starfleet Medical Academy within a half hour, which wasn't necessarily a problem, except that she didn't want to rush her lunch with Marie. In truth it was mostly a business lunch, for Marie had agreed recently to oversee some operations matters for the Picard Academy for Archeology, which was based here in Paris. A school for which, Beverly was the Chancellor.

Luckily for her it was a post largely in name only, since she shared her time between working as a doctor at Starfleet Medical and teaching classes at Starfleet Medical Academy, both of which were in San Francisco, and extremely time- consuming. But the P.A.A., now in its fifth year was a project close to her heart, and one she had kept afloat long enough that it had started gaining in prestige in a city of many universities.

Ultimately, she believed Marie would have no problems while she was away. "There are so many wonderful administrators and staff at the P.A.A., Marie, and you can rely on them for as much as you need. And of course, I want you to keep me informed, and let me know if there is anything you need."

Marie laughed. "Of course," she said. "But you must know I have no intention of bothering you…" she trailed off, not sure how to get this across to Beverly without upsetting her.

Beverly smiled. "Yes, but—" Marie took her hand.

"Beverly…you have been taking care of so many people for so long…Wesley, Jack, your patients and students…even the memory of Jean-Luc. For goodness sake you created a school in his name—a school which I know he would have truly loved." Beverly looked down at her hands as Marie spoke. "But Beverly, perhaps it is time for you to take good care of yourself, and not worry so much about others. They can take care of themselves."

* * *

She took one of the older commuter shuttles back home from Paris, and it took her almost ten minutes to return to San Francisco. She didn't mind the delay, because it allowed her to think about what Marie had said, and to let it settle in that she was really leaving; returning to the Enterprise. She did miss Wesley an incredible amount, and couldn't wait to see him. The amount of guilt she felt from leaving him almost a year ago ate at her every day. And she missed Jack…but she wasn't quite sure what Jack expected from her. She still had the divorce documents in her possession, and having shown them to him once, she knew she didn't have to wave them in his face again to make her point. It was his expectations she wasn't sure about. She wasn't sure if she could live up to his expectations anymore, and not sure if she wanted to.

She couldn't lie to herself. There had been other people she had been attracted to since leaving Jack, but she hadn't ever gone down that road too far. They were still married after all, and part of her would always feel loyal to Jack. They had simply grown apart. One year ago, she had simply had enough, no longer willing to put up with his insecurities about a career which, in her mind should have satisfied his ambitions. But she had loved Jack for so long that she was willing to try to grow close to him again. She was willing to try because she owed it to what they used to mean to each other.

Strangely, she also missed the ship, and of course the crew she had gotten to know well enough in the year before she left. Landing the _Enterprise_ , the new flagship of the fleet, had been the pinnacle of Jack's career. He had been overjoyed, and now two years into it, it still seemed like it had been the right move for him. She was very proud of him. And a large part of her now realized she missed the adventure and even the danger of being in space. And so overall, as she arrived at Starfleet Medical shuttle dock, she considered that she was happy, and knew that she wanted to stay that way.

* * *

"Wes I can't wait to see you. To think that tomorrow evening I will be leaving for the _Enterprise_ …."

Wesley smiled back at her from her view screen. "I know, I can't believe it either. I mean talking with you over subspace is great and all, but…" he trailed off and looked away.

"I know, Wes," she said softly. "It's not the same. I miss laughing with you…." She brightened. "So any news on the girlfriend front? How's Anna?"

"Mom, she broke up with me last week, I already told you that," he reminded her sullenly.

She shrugged. "It's her loss. To tell you the truth I wasn't that crazy about her anyway, Wesley. She wasn't good enough for you."

"Mom! You never even met her."

"Well…I could tell even over subspace she wasn't good enough for you."

He made a face.

"I don't mean to make light of it, Wes. I would like to hear more about it when I get there."

"Sure," he said, having no intentions of telling his mother anything more about his love life, or lack thereof.

"Okay, I've got to finish packing, but will see you in less than thirty-six hours okay? Love you."

"Love you too, Mom. Goodnight." The screen turned to black, just as her front door chimed. She turned and walked to the door, and although she knew who was visiting, she suddenly felt somber. She realized that as much as she wanted to see Walker before she left, she really didn't want to say goodbye to yet another person she loved.

And, she desperately hoped he would not bring up the subject of Jean-Luc. It was that time of year when she, Jack and Walker thought of Jean-Luc the most. Tomorrow would mark the eleventh anniversary of his disappearance, and she had no desire to think about it right now.

"Come in," she called out, realizing that she had kept Walker waiting a little too long.

Walker Keel waltzed in, a bottle of champagne tucked in the crook of his arm. "Ready to celebrate?"

She laughed, and snatched the bottle from him gently. "Can't wait to get rid of me, huh?" she said grabbing two glasses from the cabinet.

"Oh no, I will miss you like crazy, Beverly. You know I would follow you in a second if I could tear myself away from my duties," he added.

"Oh, is being head of Starfleet Academy keeping you busy or something?"

He shrugged and sat down in a big armchair with a sigh. She sat down across from him and leaned back against the couch. "I told my son I was going to finish packing, but instead I'm wasting my time with you, Walker," she said, sipping from her glass.

"Do you know how many women have said as much to me in my lifetime?"

 _Oh boy, not the no one is ever going to love me, sob story_ , she thought. But a slow smile spread over Walker's face. She knew that look. "You need something from me don't you?" she demanded.

"I'm getting married…again," he clarified. "And I need you to be the best man…or woman or whatever they are calling it these days."

"Oh, congratulations, how wonderful!" She jumped up and gave him a kiss. "Of course I will be your best…person." Suddenly she looked uncertain as she regarded him. "Is it…"

Walker's upper lip twitched. "It's Natalie," he said in irritation. "The same woman I have been with for the past six months."

"Oh, right," she said cheerily, trying to appear as though she knew for certain who that was. The fact was that Walker had been married several times, and he fell into and out of relationships more quickly than anyone else she had ever known. "Don't worry, I'm up to the challenge."

Walker patted her knee. "This will be my fifth marriage Beverly. I know how to choose best people, believe me. I have no doubt you will do a wonderful job. Anyway, as they say…the fifth time is the charm."

"No one says that, Walker…."

He grew more serious, and took a big drink from his glass. "Man, I am going to miss you. Got the posting all sorted out, right?"

"Yes, at least for now I'm going to be working in sick bay as a kind of fellow-continuing some of the same projects I have been working on at Medical. In fact, I am bringing Dr. Farmer with me to keep me on track."

Walker nearly spit his drink out. "Felix Farmer? Your assistant for the past six months?"

She frowned at his reaction. "Of course, yes, Felix. Why?"

"Beverly, come on, don't tell me you don't know?" She shook her head, puzzled. "Beverly he's got a huge crush on you…"

Beverly blushed but when she thought it over for a moment, she supposed it was possible, but she said only, "how ridiculous."

Walker winked and pointed at her. "You'll see," he warned good naturedly.

Beverly rolled her eyes. "Right. Anyway," she said, trying to change the subject, "I am really looking forward to working with the CMO again, Dr. Cho."

Walker broke into another big grin. "Oh yeah, Mark Cho is brilliant. But he's not named Cho anymore…he just got married, according to Jack. Name's LaForge now…"

Now it was Beverly's turn to choke on her drink. "What? He and Geordi got married?" Beverly shook her head in astonishment, and wiped wine off her knee. "Well, Geordi finally sorted out his love life…that's terrific. I'm happy for him," she said.

Walked laughed and settled back into the chair, now loosened up from the champagne. "Okay, enough revelations," he said, as if he hadn't been the one to do the revealing.

"Okay," she laughed. "What do you want to talk about?" She watched him for a moment, and he watched her, and suddenly the mood dropped significantly. _Oh no_ , she thought.

Walker wiped a hand over his eyes, and she could tell he was becoming emotional. It only took a few drinks for him to get this way. Actually, it didn't take any drinks at all, for him to get this way. "I just miss him around this time of year Bev. I just think about how he always knew how to do the right thing—always was so solid." He looked up at Beverly with suddenly red-rimmed eyes. "You still miss him too don't you?"

"Every minute of every day," she whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

 _Captain's Log Stardate 42526.5_

 _The Hood has been dispatched to the planet Delvora, a class M world on the edge of the Neutral Zone. We have few details about what transpired on the planet, but we expect no survivors based on our recent experiences with the phenomenon we experienced on several other worlds. Our main objective is to gather information quickly and transmit our findings to Starfleet Command before traveling to the rendezvous point._

Captain William T. Riker stood on the transporter pad next to his first officer, and three security personnel. He had been in command of the _USS Hood_ for three years now, and it was times like these when he realized how much he loved the ship and its crew.

"Ready to go, Captain?" Commander Shelby glanced at him sideways. He nodded curtly. After receiving the message from Admiral Nechayev that morning, he had gone to the bridge to find his First Officer Commander Elizabeth Shelby predictably already on duty and barking out orders. It made him think immediately of the Admiral's words "…sleep is for the unambitious…."

That saying could have been created by anyone who had the opportunity to work with Shelby. She was the epitome of ambition, and most of the time, that highly annoyed him. But it was at a time like this, when they were about to descend into the unknown, that her ambition, and preparation made her the best qualified, most trusted officer to serve with. It didn't mean he had to be best friends with her though….

"Energize" he said, and felt the familiar buzz of the transporter beam envelope his body.

* * *

They materialized in a grey haze. It had recently stopped raining, and a thick black mud covered the ground. Fog obscured most of the landscape, but Riker and Shelby could immediately see that there was little left to be obscured. As with the last planet they had reported to, the countryside along with any habitats, dwellings, technologies, and the very environment had been scooped up and was simply missing. Riker shook his head and looked around at the immensity of the problem.

He turned to Commander Shelby, whose tricorder was whirring busily. _Damn._ The population of this planet had been in the millions. Where the hell _was_ everyone? "What are you reading?" he asked.

"I've got a faint life sign down in that crater sir," she said excitedly, pointing down into a huge bowl of earth. He squinted but couldn't see a thing.

"Are you getting any residual radiation?"

She nodded. "Whatever took a bite out of this planet appears to have had a very powerful tractor beam, Captain."

"So it was a ship?

"If I had to guess, sir…"

"You do have to guess," he snapped. "We don't have much to go on here, Shelby. Just get whatever you can recorded, and let's get out of here."

"What about the life sign, sir?" she reminded him. "It's stronger now, and still down in that crater."

Riker looked up in annoyance as large greyish rain droplets began to fall on the heads of the officers. "Okay," he waved toward the security personnel. "Let's go check it out," he said and they headed down into the crater.

* * *

After about another minute of walking, the mist seemed to part oddly, and they all saw the creature at the same time. Riker started jogging toward it, and his officers followed. It stayed in the same place either unaware or unconcerned by their approach. Stopping within ten meters of it, Shelby shouted, "It looks humanoid!"

The cold falling rain had picked up again. Indeed, as they drew closer it appeared to be the figure of a crouching, nude, male human. There were no records of humans having inhabited this planet, but the race had been human-like; he assumed this was one of them. Riker squinted. The person was a young man, perhaps early to mid-thirties, and was compact and athletic with sandy colored brown hair, cut very short, and matted down by the rain.

Suddenly the man stood up and faced them. He was streaked with mud, and instead of looking frightened or confused, or even happy to be rescued, he looked incredibly angry.

Riker turned on his universal translator and put up his hands slowly. "Don't worry. Can you speak? Don't be afraid, I'm Captain William Riker of the—"

The man, who had been standing staring at them, suddenly let out a blood curdling scream and rushed at the security man who was standing in front of Riker and dove on the officer, tackling him to the ground. Riker ran to the officer's aid, pulling his phaser, but the man sprung up from the mud, slamming his fist into the underside of Riker's newly shaven jaw. Riker bit his tongue and felt the warm spurt of blood shoot from his mouth, and his phaser fell from his grip.

The man spun, even more enraged and leapt at Riker again, catching him around the waist. He immediately recognized he had a good height advantage, but Riker couldn't get a grip on the slippery, but strong man. Instead he let the man's momentum carry him backward into the muddy ground. The man sailed over Riker's head and landed with a squishing thump.

Riker rolled over on his belly and spat out blood, crawling to his knees. The man sprang at him again, throwing another punch with his right hand, this time a hook to the side of Riker's head. There was a cracking sound, and the man grunted, faltering long enough for Riker to recover and grab the man in a headlock. This time when the man screamed it came out more as a gurgle, as he struggled to breathe. He felt the man's teeth sink into his forearm, which was really the last straw. "Argh!" Riker pushed him away, and rolled clear, shouting "stun him!"

The man made it up onto one knee, chest heaving, and rambling unintelligibly before a golden phaser beam shot out from the guard to Riker's left and struck the man in his chest sending him reeling back down into the mud. Riker rushed over to the man, having recovered his phaser and had it trained on him cautiously. But it was clear the man was now unconscious and the stun beam had done its job.

Out of breath and with a swollen face, he looked briefly up at Shelby, before turning back to the sleeping man. He shook his right arm. "Sonofabitch bit me!" He knelt next to him and cleared the mud from the man's face, not too gently. He shook his aching head as if to clear his vision, still trying to catch his breath. There was something suddenly familiar, but he didn't know what. He wiped more of the mud away and then took a sharp breath in. It couldn't be. That face…he knew that face from his Academy texts. "Let's get back to the ship right away. I need to talk with someone at Starfleet Intelligence."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

If anyone had told Riker that after an interrupted yet restful sleep he would have landed on a totally devastated world stripped of its land and inhabitants and then suddenly attacked by a naked and apparently homicidal man, he would have laughed it off. But this was apparently his reality now. Maybe it was in the third year of captaining a starship that everything crazy began to happen.

After reporting to sickbay to repair the injuries from his recent experience, he considered getting Deanna's opinion first before heading to see his new guest, but decided against it for now. He felt pressure to move quickly. He had let Command know already about the circumstances down on Delvora, and that the unidentified man was now aboard the _Hood_. He knew he had started waves in motion which he could not stop now even if he had wanted to. Those political and military waves would roll right over him and through his little ship if he wasn't careful. And before he knew it, the man he found down on Delvora would disappear again, perhaps to some unknown facility for questioning.

He wanted to know for sure if his instinct had been right. So when he returned to the _Hood_ he had pulled the holo pictures available of Picard around the time of his disappearance and there was no doubt that this person looked identical to those holos. But those images had been taken years ago. It appeared that the man had not physically aged in the slightest. This, among other things was a mystery.

Because of the odd circumstances, soon Starfleet intelligence would be involved and would crowd him out of the picture as much as they could. But this was his ship after all and if he wanted to personally question the man who had nearly caused him to lose his tongue, well he would. But he knew there was more to it than that.

He had studied Jean-Luc Picard's career and his battle tactics at the Academy; had known about him before he had even decided that he wanted to enter Starfleet and quite simply had idolized him like everyone else his age, until suddenly while Riker was still at the Academy, Picard disappeared and was presumed killed during an away mission. Picard was young when he earned his first command the _Stargazer_ , and that had resonated with many young people just waiting to start their careers in Starfleet. And so when he was killed, career still on the upswing, many cadets, including Riker were devastated. So if this was _the_ Captain Picard, Riker wanted to know.

* * *

He stepped into the brig and gave the guard on duty a nod indicating he wanted him to leave. The guard complied but only after giving Riker a look that suggested he didn't think that was such a good idea. Riker glared after him for moment before turning his attention to the temporary prison cell.

Mercifully, the man inside was now wearing clothes, having been given simple pants and the standard white t-shirt. Riker leaned against the doorway to the cell, careful to avoid the force field between them.

He stared at his prisoner, who was sitting on a bench facing away from him. Riker noticed the man was gingerly cradling his swollen right hand.

"Don't you want us to treat your hand? It's probably broken, judging by how my face feels," he said, trying not to sound too generous. No answer. The man continued to sit facing away from Riker, silently staring at the floor.

Riker hesitated and then took the plunge. "You pack quite a punch… Captain." The man slowly raised his head at that but remained silent. "It's almost as though you missed doing that sort of thing…I have to say though, that I wish you hadn't tested it out on my face."

A slow deep chuckle emanated from the man's throat. He was a man…the tricorder scans had confirmed that he was human, and yet, he was more than odd.

Riker pressed on. "That's who you are, right? You're Captain Picard. Of the USS _Stargazer_?"

The man's laughing stopped abruptly.

Slowly he turned half way around to face Riker. "That was who I used to be," he said coldly. His hazel eyes appeared hard and resentful as he regarded Riker, and then he turned away again.

"What do you mean? Are you Jean-Luc Picard, or not?"

"I told you the truth," the man said slowly, looking down at his swollen hand with an odd look of morbid fascination. "I used to be him…and now I am _not_ him."

"Where have you been all these years, and why haven't you aged?"

To his surprise and consternation, the man who used to be Picard began to laugh again. It was a deep, condescending laugh, and it literally sent chills through Riker. "Why are you laughing?" Riker demanded. "There have been people mourning your loss for years, and you're laughing about it?"

"I am _laughing_ , because you know so little...and because you are so very small minded."

Riker slapped the wall with his palm. "So tell me more, so I can learn, _Captain_."

Picard stood up and walked toward the cell barrier looking up into Riker's eyes and speaking with clear, quiet contempt. "I have nothing to teach you, _human_ …but take note that as soon as I _want_ to, I will leave this place. And when I do, you will never see me again. I don't belong here, can't you tell? So don't bother to try to learn about me or where I have been, because you do not even have the capacity to understand…."

* * *

Minutes after Walker returned to his apartment after leaving Beverly's, a very unexpected call came in for him. To his dismay, it was one of his least favorite people. Nevertheless, he was all smiles. "Admiral Nechayev, what a wonderful surprise—"

"Save the BS, Keel. We have a situation."

Walker stared at her. "Admiral I'm Commandant of the Academy now, I'm not in service anymore—"

"You've been re-called to service under Security Protocol 423."

 _There's no such damn protocol_ , thought Walker sourly. _I should know, I created most of the security protocols when I was with Intelligence_. But he could tell she was going to spill everything, so he quieted himself and listened. And what she told him was the most amazing and frightening thing he had ever heard. When she finished, all he could think was that his friend had been found alive.

"I never said it was Jean-Luc Picard, Walker," said the Admiral. "I said it _appears_ to be him."

"So you want me to go to the _Hood_ and confirm it is him?"

She smiled tightly. "Yes, but there is something more. Have you ever heard of the Q, Walker?"

He nodded. "Only in name. As far as I know, there hasn't been a great deal of contact between the Q and human beings."

"That's right," she confirmed. "But now we know that it is very likely that it was Picard who made first contact with the race. Since his…disappearance eleven years ago, a number of other incidents involving other humanoid cultures have taken place to make us think that the Q were involved in his disappearance. Now we think his sudden reappearance will allow us to put some more of the pieces together. Their interest in us is at the very least concerning."

"So they abducted him." It made him sick to think of what his friend must have gone through over the years.

"We think so."

Walker sighed. He knew there was more to the story and the sudden need for him to return to Starfleet Intelligence. "What is so special about the Q?"

"Put simply, they are the equivalent of gods. As far as we can tell their powers and knowledge are unmatched by any of the other species we have encountered. You know what has been happening out in the Neutral Zone, don't you Walker?"

He clenched his jaw. "I still have my sources, so yes."

"So you must realize that if we had the knowledge to identify this threat which has devoured entire planets, we would be in a much better position than we are now to stop further incidents from happening."

"And you think Jean-Luc somehow has that knowledge?"

"Well, if he has been with the Q, there is that potential isn't there? And according to Captain Riker, his physical appearance now matches holos from _eleven years ago,_ Walker. That would seem to be the work of beings of unlimited power."

Walker briefly attempted to imagine what Picard would look like now, and could not. "I'm not comfortable with the idea of my friend, who was stolen away from us eleven years ago-and who knows what he's been through-being used by Starfleet in this way."

"Unless you want to see the Earth become a dead planet…unless you want to see the human race _erased_ from history, you had better come to terms with your discomfort, Walker, and quickly. If we are to defend ourselves, we must use whatever tools we have."

Walker glared at the view screen, but he knew it should be him, and not anyone else, to go to his friend, help him heal and bring him back to the world.

"Am I going alone?"

"No, we'll send along an operative with you." She paused.

"You'll also be taking the long-range shuttle off-planet tomorrow with Doctor Beverly Crusher."

Walker shook his head in confusion and shock. "Beverly Crusher is headed for the _Enterprise_." Nechayev stared at him impassively.

He shook his head again. "You can't mean…Admiral, I can't bring Jean-Luc onto the Enterprise!"

"And why not? You will be there, Jack and Beverly Crusher, and their son…what is his name again?"

"Wesley," Walker said with quiet anger.

"The _Enterprise_ has already been ordered to rendezvous with the _Hood_ tomorrow. If he _is_ Picard, he needs to be reintegrated into the life he once knew."

"He was abducted eleven years ago, Alynna. A lot has changed. There are things he doesn't know."

She leaned forward, eyes bright. "Are there? Let's hope there are many things that he _does_ know, Walker. It will be up to you to draw these things out of him, so that we can protect the people of this planet and the rest of the Federation. I will send the rest of the mission directives along with my operative."

* * *

Beverly had always traveled light. And now with the available technology to replicate nearly any material thing, she didn't need to bring anything but things that were very dear to her. As she hurried to the shuttle that day, with a small bag slung over her shoulder, her excitement at returning to the _Enterprise_ had already been replaced by worry and uncertainty.

Walker Keel had called her late the night before, and told her about a "sudden change of plans". His tone was markedly different than when he had been at her apartment earlier that evening, and he had indicated that he was actually coming with her to the _Enterprise_. As much as she enjoyed Walker's company, she knew from her past that he had worked for covert operations numerous times in the past, and she got the impression that once again, he was being called for some secretive mission. She was highly unsettled that such a mission might involve the _Enterprise_.

She smiled despite her uneasiness, when she saw her traveling companion and colleague, Dr. Farmer, waiting for her patiently in front of the shuttle. He smiled back at her warmly, and insisted on taking her bag, even though it was obviously not heavy. She tried to forget about what Walker had said the night before about Felix having a "crush" on her, but she could not deny that she felt an attraction to him, and it was possible he felt something similar. He took her bag, and his hand brushed hers in an innocent enough way, but she found that when it did, she liked the way his skin felt. She quickly put these thoughts out of her mind.

"Doctor," he said. "Are you ready for your latest adventure?" he said in a slight Jamaican accent. He was quite striking; his green eyes contrasting beautifully with his toffee skin tone. She had always liked green eyes. He was younger than her, but it didn't matter, and neither did the color of his eyes, as they were co-workers, and really he was her subordinate…and she was married.

"I hope so," she said with a slight smile. She looked over his shoulder as she saw Walker entering the shuttle bay. She raised an eyebrow at his companion, an athletic, attractive young woman dressed head to toe in black. This along with her very straight shoulder-length long blonde hair drawn back in a ponytail, gave her the appearance of being quite dangerous. She carried a very small black duffle bag in one hand, and what appeared to be a non-standard issue pistol was holstered at her hip.

Beverly decided immediately to find a seat on the shuttle as far away from the young woman as possible.

"Hi Bev… Doctor Farmer," said Walker, as he approached them. "This is my colleague, Natasha Yar."

The woman beside Walker gave him a derisive look, but nodded neutrally at Beverly and Felix. "Nice to meet you," was all she said, and draped her hands behind her back.

Walker rubbed his hands together and gestured toward the shuttle as though they were about to embark on a fun grade school field trip. "Shall we?"

* * *

Riker had finally left him alone in his cell, after learning nothing. He found that he relished the pain in his throbbing right hand. It had been years since he felt anything resembling discomfort or pleasure and he would be damned if he would allow the full experience of these new sensations to be taken from him as well. If he must settle for such base attributes of humanity, he was going to enjoy them, at least until he was accepted back into the Continuum.

He examined his knuckles, which were swollen, and as the human Riker had said, they were probably broken. What a feeble body. Still, he found that all of his sensations and emotions were stronger now, which gave him a sort of renewed energy.

He cursed himself and his human weaknesses. He was already becoming too comfortable in his new skin. If he was ever to return to the Continuum he would need to use his intellect. It was still vastly superior to any human. All of that knowledge gathered over the years had to be useful for something now, after all. Q told him he would not be able to see into the future, but that did not matter. He had a wealth of past knowledge to draw from. As soon as he figured out why the Q had rejected him in the first place, he would know when and how to use his powers, and he would return to his rightful place among them.

He considered the human he had punched in the face-twice. Riker had a ship, which could be of use to him in the future. He would leave that idea to sit for a while. There was plenty of time to use these humans, or not use them, however most benefited him.

His eyes narrowed as he recalled something Riker had said about people mourning his absence. Who? How unlikely! Those people who knew him so long ago had all moved on with their lives years ago. Sometimes he even struggled to remember how they had looked to him back then. He had refused to watch them from his place in the Continuum, when they had surely forgotten about him. He was dead, as far as they were concerned. While they went about fulfilling their carnal desires and chasing their meaningless careers, they gradually forgot about him.

All the while, he traveled through the universe at speeds immeasurable while they plodded through the same universe in bulky ships as slow as the crawl of time. They _raised_ _children_ , while he held a new planet in the palm of his hand, watching it evolve and grow life forms, sometimes intervening in their development, sometimes not.

Meanwhile these people had no doubt forgotten about him years ago. But now? A strange sensation passed through his body and mind, and he recognized it immediately from years ago. It was fear. What if they learned that he had returned? His mind began to race. He could not let that happen.

* * *

 **Thanks for following this story! I hope you will enjoy it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

The ships were silent, except for the moment when they burst into the atmosphere of the small planet. Giant shadows spread over the ground, as they advanced on a great city. Newly terra-formed countryside turned from green to grey and then black as the shadows multiplied. The colony administrator stepped out of the capitol building and craned her neck up and back. The underside of the ship was a strange matrix of odd shaped pieces that all seemed to fit together into one singular cube. The last thing she thought before she heard the screams and saw her own body disintegrating, was that only the buildings and other artificial structures were being spared, lifted upward in a huge tractor beam, as though they were things to be exalted, and her life and the rest of the lives on this planet were now irrelevant.

* * *

Halfway through the shuttle trip, Walker watched Beverly and Felix laughing and perhaps even flirting quietly and it just increased his worry. Farmer was a handsome intelligent guy, but Beverly was still married to Jack after all. What was going to happen when she saw Jack? Even worse, what was going to happen when she was confronted with Jean-Luc's return?

He loved Beverly as one of his dearest friends, and everyone had the right to pursue some happiness, but looking at the totality of the situation the timing was just bad. It wasn't fair that after all these years of trying to get to a good place in her heart and mind she was only to be confronted with more turmoil. And for now he was forbidden from saying a word to her about what was going to happen. Nechayev had ordered him not to tell Beverly, Jack, or anyone else on the _Enterprise_ about Picard's re-appearance until he could be certain it was really Picard who was on the _Hood_ and Yar had ensured that he was "not a security risk", whatever that meant.

Gazing at Beverly, he felt so guilty; keeping this from her was nothing short of torture. He glanced away from his friend to find Yar staring at him with an amused expression. Apparently she found the whole thing hilarious.

Nechayev had a lot of nerve. She had given in to his request and provided Yar's personnel file only for him to find it almost entirely lacking in information that he could use. As he studied her, she smiled thinly. Turkana IV. That's where she hailed from. Walker didn't consider himself a prejudiced person, but if she was from Turkana the odds that she _wasn't_ a pimp, thief or murderer were slim. He cursed under his breath as he returned her fake smile. Yar wasn't regular Starfleet and she wasn't with Starfleet intelligence either. With this type of mission, there was only one other option. _Dammit, Nechayev has sent a bounty hunter to bring my friend back_ , he thought.

He couldn't stand the staring contest anymore and stood up, nodding for Yar to follow him to the back of the shuttle. She didn't hesitate to push herself up almost languidly and follow him. Once they were out of hearing distance he turned on her. She didn't flinch. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the confrontation. "How much are they paying you?" He demanded.

She narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't even try to play dumb," he said. "You're obviously not the type."

"Why does it matter what I'm being paid, or whether I'm being paid at all? We've both essentially got the same job to do," she said.

"Yes, but he's _my_ friend."

As a person who had no friends, and didn't need them, Yar was unmoved. "Nechayev was right. You've gone soft."

"She said that?"

"If you care enough to ask, maybe she's right," observed Yar.

 _Point taken_ , thought Walker. "Call me soft or anything else you want, Yar. I'm not going to allow anyone, including you, hurt my friend."

"When is the last time you interrogated anyone, Keel?"

He said nothing, just glared at her.

Yar smiled coldly. "Then why don't you look after your _friends_ and be the good guy, and leave the real work to me. Trust me," she added. "Picard doesn't see you as his friend anymore. All you represent to him is limitation. If he has any information that we can use to achieve Starfleet's ends, you can be sure I'll get it out of him."

Walker kept his voice steady, despite trembling with anger. "I won't let you harm him."

"Just keep out of my way, Keel," she said before brushing past him and walking casually back to her seat.

* * *

"The _Enterprise_ will rendezvous with the _Hood_ and the Shuttle Montgomery in two hours, Captain," said Data standing up as Jack Crusher walked on to the bridge.

"Thank you Data," said Crusher with a smile. Data nodded and sat down next to him and folding his hands in his lap. First Officer Data was the most reliable officer Crusher had, and that was saying a lot, since his whole crew was possibly the most reliable working in the fleet right now. Jack had learned in the last two years that Data was as innocent in many ways as a child, and yet he was as sophisticated as any of the most impressive life forms they had encountered in their journeys so far. He was also fascinated by humans and humanity, a trait that helped endear him to many, but did not necessarily persuade negative types that he would be able to command human beings.

When the Enterprise was commissioned, some at Command had mentioned this to Crusher to be aware of, but their fears had never been justified. Human officers (and officers of other species) followed Data's orders, just as they would anyone else, and Data had quickly gained the trust of the crew. It didn't make him a perfect fit for the position, however. In many ways, the role of the first officer required a certain charisma that Data didn't quite have. But it seemed clear that he was developing a charm that could not be attributed just to a synthetic computer program. It was clear to Jack that Data was alive and had personality.

"Data, why do you think we've been ordered to the _Hood_?" he asked quietly, leaning toward the android.

Data twitched and turned to Jack. "Typically, such a dispatch is done in order to pool resources or share information between two or more ships, Captain. The purpose for doing so could be several things, sir."

"Hmm," said Jack. "I honestly have no idea about this one. And for some reason I feel completely uneasy about it."

"Were you not provided with any specific orders, Captain?" Data frowned.

Jack shook his head. "I know that the _Hood_ has spent more than a comfortable amount of time in the Neutral Zone, which makes me wonder if they've found something new related to the Romulans."

"Sir, if that were the case, it would be likely that you would have already been briefed on this issue by Starfleet Command."

Crusher shrugged. "Not if Captain Riker stumbled upon something suddenly, and they need our help." Crusher had never met Riker, but he'd heard positive things. It was always good to connect with another Captain while out in space for months at a time. The sharing of stories, information about recent discoveries and maybe even a drink or two was not uncommon. Maybe he would invite Riker over to the Enterprise and brag a little bit about his ship.

This reminded him however, that Beverly would be arriving at the same time as the _Hood_ , and his mood was immediately improved. Admiral Nechayev had implied that the _Hood_ would be taking on passengers from the same shuttle Beverly was traveling on. Now thoroughly distracted by thoughts of his wife, Jack tried to busy himself by reading the daily reports on the control panel arm of his chair.

* * *

 _ **USS Hood**_

"Maybe I should go and speak to him, Will," said Deanna. "He might respond better to me."

Riker made a face and looked up from the desk in his ready room. "Any response would be better than the way he's been talking to me. But he's a loose cannon, and I don't trust him, Deanna. Let's wait for Starfleet Intel to arrive in a few hours and they can handle him." He frowned at his computer screen and tried to concentrate.

Deanna moved around to stand in back of him, and put her hands on his shoulders. "Will, what's worrying you most about this whole situation?"

He sighed and leaned back into her. "First these bizarre incidents on these planets. I mean what could be causing this much damage, this quickly; taking this many lives without any apparent purpose."

"Have they considered that these might be natural disasters?"

He shook his head. "If you'd seen it…no there was nothing natural about it. The lack of bodies alone is the most remarkable part for me. I mean where did these people go? Then there is this whole thing with Picard…who's apparently not really Picard… and now the _Enterprise_ is showing up, and Starfleet won't tell me why. I don't feel like comparing notes with anyone right now, you know?"

She smiled and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. "I can see that," she said, patting him on the shoulder again. She straightened and moved back around the desk. She pulled a chair up and sat down. "Meeting Captain Picard has really unsettled you, hasn't it?"

He nodded and looked directly at her. "Well, meeting him in this way sure has. Deanna, he doesn't quite seem human. I don't know what happened to him, but he's not the Captain Picard I've always read about."

"Assuming what you read all those years ago was even accurate," said Deanna. "What about those Academy texts don't fit with the man you met yesterday?"

"Everything," he said, standing up suddenly. "But mainly the image of him as a… thinking man's hero. He was a noble person, a brave person, and now look at him. He's selfish, violent, and arrogant."

"Will…he's probably been in the hands of an alien race for the last eleven years. He's not telling us anything about himself except that he _isn't_ himself. That is not the mind of a person who has been living normally. I think you have to expect that he is largely reacting to being out of captivity."

"Yeah, he's reacting alright. He wants to _go back_ , Deanna."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

 **On the shuttle...**

Beverly felt a warm pressure on her shoulder and looked to her left to see that Felix had fallen asleep and his right shoulder was pressing against her left shoulder. His head was stretched back onto the seat next to her, and his mouth was slightly open. She was hopeful that his head would not loll awkwardly onto her shoulder, but at the moment he did look kind of adorable.

Walker looked at her. "Are you going to just let him do that?"

"Let him do what? He's sleeping for goodness sake," she said lowering her voice to a whisper.

Walker shook his head and tapped at his data pad. "Oldest trick in the book," he murmured.

"What?"

"One, be a really handsome guy…two, conveniently fall asleep on some lady's shoulder... next thing you know, you're in her bed..." he remarked, not looking up from his report.

"Walker. Shut… up!" she said still whispering. Despite her annoyance with him, she started to laugh silently, enough that her body began to shake from the effort of trying to keep quiet. Felix's eyes snapped open, and he moved away from her suddenly.

"Sorry," he apologized, with an embarrassed smile. He stretched drowsily.

"It's okay," Beverly said, reddening. She shot Walker a warning look.

Felix turned away from her and settled into a napping position again, cradling his head on his elbow.

Despite Walker's propensity for cracking jokes, something about him still wasn't right. Beverly looked searchingly at her friend and could tell that he was extremely anxious. She could tell, because Walker was usually so adept at hiding anything that might be troubling him-unless he wanted you to know. But not this time; this time his anxiety was clear. And try as she might she was unable to shake her own growing feeling of dread.

It didn't help that Walker's companion had the appearance and all the charm of a mercenary. She felt badly for whoever was going to have to tangle with this Yar person. She glanced around the cabin, wondering where Yar had disappeared to, and then turned back to Walker.

"You're not going to tell me why you're suddenly traveling with me, are you?"

Walker looked at her and something akin to guilt passed over his face. "I can't. Not yet. But Beverly, whatever happens I am going to be there for you," he said rather cryptically.

She gave him a puzzled look because that was how she felt. "What do you mean, Walker? I mean of course I know you're there for me...I'm here for you too." She tried to guess what he was thinking about but he had again turned back to his data pad.

"Did Jack contact you?" she pressed, wondering if that was the reason for his strange demeanor.

"Bev, I know it's strange, but I can't say anything more than I already have. You will just have to trust me."

She watched him for a moment longer, wondering why trust was no longer an unspoken part of their relationship. "Of course," she agreed quietly, and settled back into her seat, staring blankly ahead.

* * *

 _ **USS Hood**_

The force field blocking his escape was not complex. With the right tools he'd be able to dismantle it. The problem was he had no tools. Except for his brain, the greatest tool of them all. He could trick the guard too…the use of his Q power was unnecessary to achieve this. He could pretend to be suicidal and distraught. He'd calculated this body would sustain only moderate damage if he threw himself against the glowing barrier no more than three times. Any more than that, and he'd stun himself unconscious.

After the third time, he'd be woozy, but still able to run, once the guard lowered the force field to aid him. His eyes rested on the phaser attached to the man's belt. Yes, that's exactly what the fresh-faced young man would do: come to his aid. From there everything would be easy with only the most limited amount of violence. But then once he had stunned the guard with his own phaser, it was more complicated.

"Oh, guard," he called out boredly.

The guard shuffled over, seemingly happy to have company. "Yeah?" He seemed uncertain how to address the prisoner. He had heard this man might be a former captain who had gone missing in action years ago, but aside from that bit of information, the guard wasn't exactly privy to the details.

"I'm being held against my will on a starship, correct?"

"Yes…the USS Hood."

"Is it a large crew?"

The guard shrugged. "About five hundred or so personnel. Why do you ask?"

He turned away slightly, ignoring the human's question. Once free from the cell, it wouldn't be difficult to locate an environmental control panel. He could sabotage the ship's environmental systems and interrupt the oxygen mix just enough to knock the crew out but keep them alive. The appropriate equations were all in his mind. But what then? He'd have control of a ship. A ship meant nothing to him now. Whether he was stuck on this ship or an another planet he would still face the task of returning to the Q.

He walked back to the bench where it seemed he'd been sitting for days. He reached up with his left hand and wiped dried mud from his brow. In addition to refusing medical aid, he'd also refused a shower, and now he was beginning to regret it. He took a whiff of his armpit. "Oh dear," he murmured, nose crinkling. He'd forgotten the care needed for a mortal body. What a waste of his intellect having to focus on such mundane things.

His body was weakening. His stomach felt queasy and empty and had begun to rumble in strange ways. Perhaps he was dying? He sat sullenly in the corner of his cell, for some time before he realized why his mood was worsening and he felt light-headed. Eleven years was a long time to go without food. "Guard," he said eventually.

The guard walked back toward the cell, more cautiously this time. "What is it?" the young man asked.

"I'm not feeling very well."

The guard surveyed the prisoner. He appeared in good health. A little muddy, but not ill. "Look…I don't think I should be talking to you."

"I think need something to eat," Picard demanded, getting up and staring at the guard through the blue force field.

For some odd reason the guard brightened at this. "What would you like?"

" _Like?"_ He tried to remember what he had enjoyed eating all of those years ago, but could not. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I will eat anything you bring me, but I _need_ sustenance."

"Would you like some fruit? I could bring you some fruit," offered the guard generously. "Do you like bananas?"

He stared at the guard. Willpower; yes that was the human skill he needed to exercise at that moment. He was beginning to realize the difficulty of having the ability to use his power only when he truly wanted to. He did not intend to waste his opportunities to re-enter the Continuum.

It had become his nature to use his power without thought, and so now he had to consciously tell himself not to force the guard stop talking and bring him the food, and _not_ to send the guard flying through the air into the wall, or _not_ to simply create the food for himself out of thin air. So, with great focus and deliberation, he said to the guard mechanically, "Yes…I like bananas. Please bring me some."

The guard nodded and turned away and walked to a small food replicator. He returned with a bunch of the yellow oblong fruit and deactivating the force field in one small spot, pushed them through.

* * *

By the fifth banana, he felt sick. His stomach had become unaccustomed to eating, because when he was with the Q, this was no problem. He sat down on the bench and curled up in a fetal position, waiting for the pain and nausea to leave him. "Aaagh…." Now he was really dying.

"That doesn't look very comfortable," a voice broke through his miserable stupor. He looked up to find Riker watching him. Realizing how pathetic he must have looked, he forced himself up to a sitting position. It irked him that how he appeared to this human now mattered to him for some reason.

"Comfort is something I had forgotten about…until now," he admitted.

Riker nodded, appearing somewhat sympathetic. He pulled a chair forward and sat down just outside the cell. "I thought we could talk…you know about how the hell you showed up on Delvora following an attack there."

He sighed, and winced as he put pressure on his right hand, which was now very swollen. He noted that Riker looked somewhat satisfied to see that he wasn't the only one suffering ill effects from their wrestling match. "How is your arm?"

Riker chuckled. The man in the cell didn't appear genuinely concerned for his welfare. "Just fine…how are your teeth?"

The man shrugged noncommittally.

"The doctor was able to take care of me, don't worry," Riker continued.

"I'm overflowing with compassion," his prisoner said looking up. "Can't you tell?"

"For someone who claims to be brilliant, Captain—"

"I'm not Captain Picard…I already told you, that is merely who I used to be."

Riker started over as patiently as possible. "For someone who likes to declare how smart you are, you really struggle with the basics, don't you? Unlike you, at least I'm willing to seek medical attention."

"Perhaps I've just never had a very good track record with physicians," he responded dryly. Then he seemed to be incredibly amused by his own joke and began to laugh.

"Oh? Why don't you tell me about it? You know I used to read about you back at the Academy—"

He stopped laughing. "This game has grown very tiresome, Riker. I demand to be dropped off at the next planet. Preferably an M class world, without mud."

Riker leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "What kind of game do you think we are playing here? Whatever it is, you appear to be losing."

The man laughed. "Why? Because I am inside this cell? You have no idea what I am capable of," he said, starting to stand up. He sat back down abruptly as another feeling of painful nausea knifed through him.

Riker's eyes flicked over to a pile of empty banana peels in the corner. Clearly Picard _was_ capable of eating a number of bananas in a row, but now he was paying the price for doing so. Riker smiled slightly, but he didn't want to completely insult the man, who was obviously trying to overcompensate for his helplessness.

"Funny you should mention your capabilities," said Riker. "Because Starfleet Intelligence is on its way here right now, and they apparently want to know exactly what those are."

Picard stood up at this, and began pacing the cell. He certainly had not missed the anxieties of being human. Suddenly he felt caged. He could easily escape this place, this ship and go to any world he wanted to. Anywhere but back to the Q. But something made him hesitate. He only had three chances. What if he was meant to remain here, at least for now? If only Q would send him some kind of sign.

Why would the humans want to speak with him? Obviously they would want to know where he had been all these years. But there was something more. Yes, it was Delvora! The Q must have placed him there for a reason, so that Riker's ship would find him. But why? He stopped pacing and looked at Riker intensely. "I have the power to do things you cannot even imagine."

Riker stood up from his chair. "Oh really?" he said, gesturing at Picard's broken hand. "So why haven't you healed yourself yet? I know for a fact that it must hurt. Unless of course you can't feel pain."

He looked down at his hand, and then shrugged at Riker. "Perhaps I don't want to heal myself."

Now it was Riker who began to pace outside Picard's cell. It almost sounded as if Picard was telling the truth. But if he had the power to heal a couple of broken bones, why not do it?

"Let's say I believe that you have special…powers, or whatever you want to call them. How far do these powers extend?"

"I told you. There is nothing I cannot do."

"But only if you want to?"

"Exactly," said Picard.

Riker was extremely skeptical and was beginning to wonder if Picard was simply too psychologically damaged to sustain a reasonable conversation. Yet he seemed to truly believe what he was saying. That didn't mean he wasn't totally delusional. At least the man was talking now. Seemed like progress, at least. "So…how did you get these powers? Who gave them to you?"

Picard's eyes glittered with sudden anger. " _Gave_ them to me? You know _nothing_ about what I gave up to become this way!" he shouted, pounding his fist against the wall for emphasis. Riker resisted the urge to take a step back.

As pain shot through his hand and wrist, he gasped and leaned his forehead against the cool wall. "You know nothing about what I have endured," he said in a voice just above a whisper.

"You're right, I don't know," Riker answered quietly. "But for some reason, I want to."

* * *

 _"_ _Are you going to tell him about us?" he watched her face closely, looking for the connection they had; that he knew was still there._

 _"_ _Jean-Luc, there is no us," she said. "I'm back together with Jack now. And…"_

 _"And? And you don't need me anymore. Really, because after a few months of silence from you, I think I can take a hint, Beverly. You didn't need to call me here for a clandestine meeting-"_

 _"Jean-Luc, I'm pregnant."_

 _He stared at her. "Is it mine?" He didn't care if his tone was sharp, or too possessive. She had already slipped away from him._

 _She backed away from him. "_ _It_ _? This baby, is mine, Jean-Luc. We were together less than two weeks. Jack and I may have been fighting, but we've been back together now for two months. Do you really think…."_

 _"_ _Yes, I do," he said quickly. "I think this baby is ours, and I think you're using your pregnancy to run back to Jack."_

 _"_ _And I think," she said in a quiet voice. "That you are using your knowledge of my pregnancy to try and manipulate me to stay with you, not because you care about the baby. If you think I will be manipulated, you're wrong, Jean-Luc."_

 _"Manipulation?_ _" He laughed. "Why did you call me up after two months, and ask to meet with me...just so you could tell me you're pregnant with Jack's child? Who is manipulating who now?"_

 _"You always need to have the last word, don't you, Jean-Luc?"_

 _"How could I have been so stupid to think that you wanted me, when all you really wanted was a vacation from Jack. Patched things up again, have you?"_

 _She looked at him in shock, and he knew he had hurt her, but she had already hurt him so many times over._

 _"Of course I wanted you, Jean-Luc. But sometimes that isn't enough."_

 _"_ _It was enough for me."_

* * *

He woke up, and his heart was racing. His chest was covered in sweat, and he nearly fell off of the hard bench in his prison cell. A dream! He hadn't dreamt in so many years. Or was it a true memory? He settled his head back against the cool material as his breathing began to slow down. He ignored the persistent aching below his waist, which he admitted he had not experienced in many years.

At first, he had avoided thinking of her for so long. It had been easier that way. And then after a few years, the pain of losing her had dissipated, and he hadn't needed to think of her at all. From a great distance it was much easier to see that his petty jealousies and obsessions were no longer important, and in fact, she had never belonged to him in the first place.

There was no place for such things in the Continuum. Of course, the baby had been Jack's and the son…yes of course, he had been called Wesley. His eyes fluttered and then shut. Slowly the old images faded again from his mind and his body calmed down. There was no harm in remembering a little bit of his old life before he returned to the Q. It wouldn't be long now…


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Wesley Crusher sat in advanced astrophysics class, listening to the teacher explain something about warp containment fields that he already knew. This was typical, and he patiently listened, while other kids in the class asked questions he had known the answers to since he had been ten years old. He jiggled his knee, waiting for the class to end so that he could depart for Engineering. His mother would be aboard the ship by dinner time, and he needed a distraction until then.

He had been working with Chief Engineer Geordi LaForge for six months now on a project to improve warp field efficiency and duration. His Dad had encouraged him to help out in Engineering, which was kind of a surprise. As much as he loved his dad, he was kind of clueless about the things that made Wesley tick. He had mentioned to his mother shortly after she left that he was interested in wanting to work with Geordi, and then miraculously his dad had agreed. Geordi had just returned from his honeymoon on Risa last week, so the project had been placed in limbo for a few weeks. Wesley was eager to get back to it, and sincerely hoped that Geordi would be able to focus and not constantly talk about how terrific his relationship was, and how great it was to be married.

Honestly, Wesley was happy for him, but Wesley had recently been dumped by his girlfriend Anna, who was now dating some eighteen-year-old Starfleet cadet or something. Imagine her wanting to date some guy long distance instead of wanting to be with him right here on the _Enterprise_. Wesley's self- esteem had never been high, but recently it had completely tanked.

And as much as he wanted to see his mother, he knew she would want to try and cheer him up, and he just didn't feel like being treated like a kid right now. Well, he was still a kid, but puberty had made things really complicated for him lately. He didn't really feel like telling his mother about his raging hormones, or even his dad, for that matter, who was too preoccupied with ship's business to discuss these things with him.

* * *

He hadn't even told his dad that he had broken up with Anna, because the timing just hadn't been right, and his dad hadn't asked how she was doing. Before his mother had announced she was returning to the Enterprise just days ago, his dad had been at a conference on Star base 20.

When he had returned he had explained that there were opportunities out there he hadn't even known about; opportunities he couldn't have if he remained a starship captain forever. Wesley had been surprised by this, since he had assumed that his dad was happy commanding the Enterprise, which was widely regarded as the best ship in the fleet. But his dad sounded excited about some of the influential people he had met. "I might have a chance to really make a difference with a political career, Wes. We might even be able to move back to Earth."

"You mean to be with Mom?"

"Well, you know, she has been saying I'm too wrapped up in my career. If she's at Starfleet Medical and I have…some other position on Earth that's less intense, maybe we can make it work."

"Dad I don't think us leaving the _Enterprise_ is going to change how Mom feels," said Wesley.

Jack frowned, looking suddenly vulnerable. "Why, did she say anything to you?"

Wesley shrugged. "No…but do you really want to be a politician, Dad? I mean, you're already making a difference out here exploring."

Jack smoothed his hair out dramatically. "I have the political look don't I?" he said with a grin, but then it faded and was replaced by a faraway look. "Besides, I'm not sure I have that edge anymore, Wes."

"What do you mean?"

"The kind of edge your father had," said Jack with a slight smile. "Jean-Luc never questioned what he wanted to do with his career. At the time I thought it was one of his faults—he was too closed off, too tightly wound. But he was just driven, that's all. He knew what he wanted."

Wesley looked down at his feet. "Dad, what do you think he would be doing, if he was still alive?"

Jack smiled. "Oh I have no doubt that he would be right here. Commanding the Enterprise."

* * *

Jack waited nervously in the main transporter room, after being notified of both the arrival of the long range Shuttle Montgomery and the USS _Hood_. He shifted from foot to foot, while Lt. O'Brien stood ready at the controls.

"Three of the shuttle's passengers are signaling us for transport, Captain," said O'Brien.

Jack turned to look at him. He had only been expecting Beverly and her colleague Dr. Farmer to beam over from the Montgomery. "What are the credentials of the third passenger?" he asked.

"Unknown, sir. But he or she does have a Starfleet combadge signature."

Crusher nodded. "Well, I guess we'll find out soon enough, Miles. Energize."

Jack actually laughed as Walker Keel's recognizable shape and face materialized on the transporter pad. "Somehow I feel I should have known you would show up too," remarked Jack. Wasn't the arrival of the _Hood_ mysterious enough to warrant a Walker sighting, after all?

"That's funny," said Walker. "I had no idea where I was transporting to. Who are you again?" he grinned and stepped down from the pad. Jack laughed again and then turned his attention to Beverly, who stood with Dr. Farmer. She hesitated before stepping down herself and hadn't quite made eye contact with him yet.

"Captain Crusher, it's a pleasure to meet you sir," said Felix Farmer, stepping forward and shaking Jack's hand firmly. Jack easily became jealous when it came to Beverly. He had never been able to help it. His eyes narrowed slightly as Farmer seemed to grasp his hand a little longer than necessary. It bothered him that he had to look up slightly to properly size the man up, as Farmer was taller than him by a few inches. And younger. _Great_ , thought Jack. _She's working with an Adonis who is also a doctor._

"Hi Jack," said Beverly, seeing he had adopted his jealous face almost immediately upon meeting Felix. Jack turned to her and took her hand.

"Hello my love," he said, and after hesitating, drew her into an embrace. She hugged him back firmly, but somehow he wasn't quite convinced. He kissed her on the cheek.

Walker caught Felix Farmer's eye, smiled and gave him a knowing wink. Farmer glanced away, clearly uncomfortable.

Jack took Beverly's bag from her with a smile and looked at Walker. "So to what do we owe this surprise visit, Walker? I hope you'll have dinner with us later," he said. Beverly looked at Jack with a curious expression, but said nothing.

"Actually, I'm not so sure about that, Jack," said Walker. "I wanted to just say hello first, but I have some business over on the _Hood_." He hesitated, trying to seem as normal as possible. "I would like to beam back over in a few hours, if you're agreeable."

Jack laughed. What the hell was going on? "Agreeable? Of course, that sounds great."

Walker nodded, and touched Beverly gently on her arm before returning to the transporter pad. "Energize," he said.

* * *

Felix said something about getting to work right away, and began bringing their scientific equipment to the lab. The first thing Beverly did was go and find Wesley. Jack had wanted to talk, but she told him it would have to wait until later. She knew he wanted to talk about why she had requested separate quarters, but frankly he should have known better. She knew he might think she was giving him mixed signals, but so be it. She wasn't ready to be with him night and day yet, and it was as simple as that.

Wesley, she was told by one of the teenage boys she saw in the ship's corridors, was probably in Engineering. She stepped a little lighter in anticipation of seeing him. Engineering was bustling as usual, and she weaved her way through terminals and people, until she found him, leaning over a computer panel, his slender frame tense with concentration.

"Wesley!" she said coming up behind him. He jumped, and turned around to find her standing there.

"Hey Mom," he said, breaking into a genuinely happy smile. She grabbed him into a hug and for a few moments, he wondered if she would let go. So instead, of worrying about it, he squeezed her back, hoping he could convey how much he had missed her, how happy he was that she had returned.

Pulling back, she looked at him appraisingly. "Yes, you're definitely taller…"

He shrugged. "I guess," he said.

"And your voice is a little deeper," she noted, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. Wesley reddened.

"I've been telling him for weeks to get a haircut, Doctor."

Beverly turned to find LaForge standing behind them. "Geordi," she said giving the Chief Engineer a big smile. "Congratulations are in order, I hear," she said, grabbing his hand and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Geordi grinned. "Yeah thanks Doc, I am feeling great. Mark and I are really happy. This shared quarters thing is going to take a little more getting used to than I expected, though."

Crusher raised an eyebrow. "So who is moving where?"

"Well he's the CMO, so his living quarters are slightly larger than mine…and I'm throwing out a bunch of my own stuff to make room…basically."

"These are the sacrifices you make for love," said Wesley said with mock wisdom. Beverly looked at her son with an amused expression.

Geordi grinned. "Right...right…well some of us have got to get back to work. You two enjoy catching up. So glad to see you again, Doc."

Beverly gave him a little wave as he left and then turned back to Wesley. "The sacrifices of love? My, I must have missed some things in your life recently."

Wesley groaned, realizing he had set himself up for an inquisition. Beverly wrapped her arm around her son's shoulders as they walked out of Engineering together. "Let's go get something to eat, and you can catch me up on the ship gossip."

* * *

When all introductions and pleasantries on board the _Hood_ had been dealt with, Riker, Walker, Yar and Shelby stood in the corridor outside the brig where Picard was being held. "Why is he in a prison cell?" Walker demanded to know.

Riker resisted the urge to laugh. "Well, for starters he was placed in the brig because he attacked my security detail, and then punched me in the face by way of greeting. Twice. Then he bit my arm."

"How resourceful," Yar said sounding impressed.

Shelby took obvious offense and glared at Yar. "On this ship we are serious about the captain's welfare," she snapped.

Yar was unfazed. "Who's joking? Maybe you should have done a better job protecting his welfare down on Delvora, then…."

"Enough," Riker snapped. "Since I happen to be the Captain of this vessel," "It was in my discretion to keep him locked up for safety reasons alone."

Walker laughed. "The Jean-Luc Picard I knew was no _safety threat_. He's as stable and reliable an individual as you'll ever know."

Riker crossed his arms. "Mr. Keel, he attacked my five person away team, while naked and un-armed, and had to be stunned with a phaser to get him to stop. You call that stable?"

Walker sighed. "I see your point."

"If it makes you feel any better though, we've moved him to a larger cell next door so that you can question him. It's a little more comfortable than where he was," said Shelby.

Yar glared at Riker. "Captain, you were foolish to move him anywhere before we arrived. He is presently a security threat until _I_ say he's not," she said.

Riker bristled at this. "Do what you want, Yar. But keep in mind this is my ship, and this man is still technically a Starfleet officer." He glanced pointedly at the gun on her hip. _Not exactly standard issue. And neither is she…_

Walker smiled at Riker's unexpected protectiveness toward Picard. It was good to know Riker could be an ally if necessary.

Yar shrugged and smiled, adjusting a small bag over her shoulder, which Shelby eyed suspiciously.

Walker put a hand on Riker's shoulder. "You have no reason to be worried, Captain," he said. "Jean-Luc Picard has been one of my best friends for years. I certainly mean him no harm."

Riker studied Keel's face. "Then I am afraid you are the one with reason to be worried, Mr. Keel. Your _friend_ isn't exactly happy to be here. I don't know where Captain Picard has been all these years—maybe you do—but he has no desire to be here with us humans again."

Yar seemed unsurprised. "Did he say anything specific about where he's been?"

"He keeps telling me he has unlimited power of some kind…but he hasn't used it yet as far as I know," said Riker. "He also has a broken hand and has refused medical attention."

Walker smiled wistfully. "Well, now that almost sounds like Jean-Luc." he said.

Riker gestured toward a nearby room. "Let's not waste any more time then. Right this way."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

Walker stepped into the interrogation room after Riker and Shelby, with Yar lagging behind. Riker nodded at the man sitting behind a desk. Walker could honestly not believe he was seeing Picard in the flesh again. But…it definitely looked like him. He had always had a definite physical presence about him to complement his intelligence, but there was something almost primal about him right now. Maybe it was just the fact that he gave the appearance of not quite fitting into his surroundings. He was human, but somehow didn't belong here. Not yet, at least.

Picard continued to stare at his hands on the tabletop. His right hand was swollen and discolored. He remembered Riker's words about not accepting medical treatment, but rather than the characteristic stubbornness, Picard seemed almost to be fascinated by his injury, as though it were part of his re-education process into human-ness.

Walker sat down slowly across from Picard. "Jean-Luc, it's me…Walker. I can't express to you how happy I am to see you alive after all these years."

Picard raised his eyes to meet Walker's then dropped them again. "Yes, I recognize you," he said without emotion. Of course, he told himself, Walker had always been affiliated with Starfleet Intelligence. _They've sent him to question me because he knows me, or used to. But what do they want?_

Walker tried not to be hurt by his friend's seeming indifference. "I have to say, I kind of expected you to be bald by now. But you look the same-"

"Did you come in here to comment on my hairstyle, or do you have anything of substance to say?" The tone had gone from disinterested to harsh and condescending in an instant.

"Jean-Luc," Walker said softly. "Tell us about your experience. Were you with the Q?"

Observing from the corner, Riker's brow creased in confusion. He'd never heard of the "Q". He and Shelby exchanged troubled glances.

"Why do you want to know?" asked Picard.

Walker stared at him. "Jean-Luc, we thought you were _dead_. What really happened?"

"It's none of your concern, human," said Picard dismissively, and stood up. "I need to leave this ship. Why do you people persist in caging me here?"

Yar stepped forward, and to everyone's surprise moved in close, standing almost nose to nose with Picard. "What were you doing on Delvora?" she questioned him.

"I don't know," he responded. Walker believed him.

Yar sat down on the edge of the desk, looking up at him where he continued to stand very still. She purposely placed herself in a vulnerable position, just to show Picard, and perhaps everyone in the room, that she was entirely unafraid. Picard looked down at her with something resembling amused condescension.

"You can kill me with a thought, can't you?" Yar asked with a cold smile.

"Faster than you can kill me with that piece of metal strapped to your hip."

"Would you be willing to demonstrate this power you say you have?"

Picard laughed. "Are you asking me to kill you? I won't perform for your amusement, even if it means I could rid myself of your inane questions."

Yar looked at him skeptically. "Are you even still a Q? I'm not convinced that you are," said Yar.

"Small minds can be difficult to convince of simple truths," observed Picard, sitting back down and getting out of her line of sight.

Yar remained standing, having gained the high ground momentarily. "If you have the knowledge of the Q, why don't you know why you were on Delvora?"

Picard's overconfident smile faded from his face, and his expression grew dark. "They took some of my power," he admitted in a low voice.

Yar leaned in, and ran her index finger along the neckline of his t-shirt. He didn't move, just watched her. "They don't want you anymore do they? They've finished their experiments on you…you must be _so_ humiliated."

Walker shifted angrily behind her. _Let him try and interrupt me, if he has a problem with my method,_ she thought.

Picard stared through her but said nothing for a few moments. Then he raised his gaze to hers. "If you want to know about the Borg…why don't you just ask me, instead of playing these childish games?" he suggested with quiet superiority.

* * *

Beverly Crusher walked up next to Felix Farmer as he was finishing unpacking some of the specialized instruments and research materials they had shipped from their lab in Starfleet Medical. She put a box down next to him on the shelf. "We'll have everything just as we need it in a few days," said Felix confidently, moving to a nearby computer terminal, to finish cataloging.

"Yes," said Crusher, checking her inventory list on her data pad. "We've actually made a lot of headway this afternoon. I just never like setting up, unpacking. It's always so tedious."

He glanced at Beverly, whose back was turned to him and tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice. "Beverly, I know you are still getting settled in but would you like to have dinner with me one evening soon?" He hoped he hadn't spoken too quickly.

She turned to look at him slowly with a half-smile on her face. "Dinner. Hmm. Do you mean colleague dinner… or dinner-dinner?"

He licked his lips nervously. "Uh, dinner-dinner," he ventured awkwardly, realizing it wasn't going quite the way he had intended.

"Felix, I'm married," said Beverly, putting her data pad down on the shelf. "I thought that was clear."

Felix put his hands in his pockets. "I guess I thought there was some chemistry there...and well, you and Captain Crusher had separated..."

Beverly smiled, and picked the data pad back up, putting it in her pocket absently. "Felix, in addition to you being a great doctor and colleague, I'll admit to some chemistry between us."

"But although it may be complicated between me and Jack right now... we are still married. I'm sorry if I gave you mixed-signals, but… that's all I can say for right now," she said apologetically. "I hope this isn't going to make things too awkward between us, Felix, because we have _so_ much work to get done."

Felix seemed to force a smile, but nodded. "No, Beverly, I promise you it won't affect my work. And thank you for understanding."

* * *

Later that evening, Walker had beamed back to the Enterprise and asked for a meeting with Jack and Beverly. He knew it was the only proper way to do this. Walker led Jack and Beverly into the conference room next to the bridge.

"I need to tell you both something...something very unexpected. It's shocking, really."

"Out with it, Walker," said Beverly, sitting down at the table.

"Yes," agreed Jack, doing the same. "Enough with the secrecy."

 _Okay here goes_ , thought Walker, taking a deep breath. "Jean-Luc is alive."

Silence. The looks on his friends' faces reflected the accumulation of over a decade of anguish and sorrow. Beverly murmured something neither Jack nor Walker could hear and shut her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered once and then she fainted forward onto the table.

"Shit," said Jack and Walker at the same time, and they both rushed to her side. A few moments later, she had been revived, and leaned forward with her face in her hands. She felt Jack's palm resting on her back. He was attempting to comfort her she knew. But she felt as though she was going to be sick. Was this a dream? She took in slow deep breaths.

How could he still be alive after all this time? Where had he been? Had he been tortured? All of these thoughts and more raced through her mind as she listened to Walker speaking. She did not trust herself to look at either Jack or Walker so she just listened with her hands over her eyes.

"A couple of days ago," he began, "the _Hood_ found a lone survivor on a planet in the Neutral Zone called Delvora. The planet had recently been attacked by a force or forces unknown. The only living thing left on the planet was Jean-Luc."

Beverly let out a shuddering sigh but said nothing and continued to stare at the table.

"How did he get there?" Jack demanded. "More importantly, where has he been?"

"He has only given us pieces of his story so far. But we think he was captured by a very powerful race of beings eleven years ago and has been with them ever since," said Walker. "We think they might have abandoned him on that planet."

"Why have they let him go now?" Jack asked.

"Unclear," said Walker. "And even less clear is his attitude about it all."

Jack shook his head in confusion. Walker took another deep breath. "I know it sounds strange, but he thinks he's one of them. Claims he has special powers, but we haven't seen any evidence that he is anything but human. At least physically he hasn't changed."

"But you think mentally he's not the same person?" said Jack, trying to come to terms with it all. "How so?"

"Goddammit, I don't want to hear any more of this," declared Beverly, standing up and placing her palms on the table. "I just want to see him," she said in a low voice.

"Beverly, Walker said he's not himself yet—"

"I want to see him, Jack; with my own eyes." She turned to Walker. "Let's go."

* * *

"Beverly, I want to warn you…I can't tell you what he will do. He's hostile and…well he's not the Jean-Luc we used to know."

"Walker how can you keep saying that? We don't even know what he's been through. We don't have the right to judge him before we know more, and before he's had time to heal." She clutched her med kit with sweaty palms. She had no idea what to expect.

Walker sighed. "Alright, whatever you say. Let's do this." He hit the door lock, and the door swished open.

Beverly stepped carefully into the room with Walker by her side. Nothing could have adequately prepared her for the sight of him after so many years. Aside from appearing slightly disheveled in a wrinkled t-shirt, he was as he had appeared all those years ago. Whatever he had been through, he had in fact survived.

"My God, you are beautiful," she whispered and walked toward him as if she were drawn by an unseen force.

Picard immediately stood up and moved in back of his chair, almost using it as a shield. "No."

"Don't worry," she said, holding her hands out in as non-threatening a away as she could. "No one is going to hurt you anymore. I won't allow it."

He flattened himself against the wall, and did not take his eyes off her as she continued to walk slowly toward him. His mind began to race and memories began to rush back to him. He was trying to remain in control, but his mind and body were suddenly in chaos. Suddenly, he crossed his arms over his chest, as though hugging himself and shut his eyes, biting his bottom lip.

"Jean-Luc, it's me…Beverly." She glanced at Walker, who clearly did not know what to say. "Please say you remember who I am," she said her voice almost a whisper. "I always knew you were alive. Somehow, I just knew it."

He remained in the same odd position, hugging himself as though he were trying to physically hold his body together.

She glanced at his right hand. "Jean-Luc, I know you have an injury that hasn't been treated for two days. Why don't you let me help you before it gets worse?" She moved toward him again with her med-kit.

"No," he whispered, eyes still shut tightly. "Please, just stay over there…."

"Jean-Luc, she's going to help you." said Walker. He was amazed at the change in Picard's demeanor from his earlier tense interaction with Natasha Yar. Now he was almost like a frightened child, shrinking back into a corner. It was difficult to watch.

"I'm your friend," she said, reaching out to touch him. "I know you must remember that."

"No," Picard said in a louder voice. And then suddenly there was a flash of blinding light and he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 ** _USS Hood_**

Walker and Beverly stood still for a few moments in silence. Walker was the first to speak, through a very real sense of shock. "It would seem that he was telling the truth about having special abilities…"

"Or they took him again," said Crusher beginning to feel a sense of panic. "We need to look for him, Walker!"

He looked down at her surprised. "Bev, we don't know where he is!"

She tossed her tricorder onto the table in frustration. "I should have scanned him! What if he was giving off some kind of-of energy residue that we could track with the _Enterprise_ , and I missed it—"

"I don't think it's that simple. And it's not your fault. This is beyond our technology," Walker explained.

"Well…maybe Yar knows where these Q people can be found. She seems to know things we don't, Walker."

Neither one of them heard the door hiss open behind them, so they were startled to hear Yar's voice.

"Where the hell is Picard?" She gave Walker a look which more than suggested that he was somehow responsible for losing the Captain.

Walker shook his head. "He's gone Yar."

"Obviously," she snapped. "Well, did he say anything before he left?"

"He just kept saying 'no'," said Beverly, dazed.

Yar fixed her with a piercing stare. "And what were you doing to make him say that? As a matter of fact, what the hell is she doing here, Keel?"

"She was trying to help him, Yar. Just slowly walking toward him."

Yar lounged back against the wall and crossed her arms. "Mr. Keel I was told by Intel that I would have free reign of this project—"

"Project?" Beverly glanced at Walker, outraged. "What is she talking about, Walker? Jean-Luc is not a project-"

"- instead you're bringing in old girlfriends without clearing it with me—"

"Excuse me?" Beverly's face flushed red.

Yar smiled thinly. "Oh yes…I've studied your file, doctor."

"File, what file?"

"I hate to break it to you but there's an intelligence file on everyone."

Beverly turned to Walker again who merely shrugged tiredly.

"Look, Yar" said Beverly hotly. "If you know where Jean-Luc is, then you have to help us find him. If you really read my file, then you might be able to guess how important he is to me."

Yar's expression was unreadable. "If you want my help, I need to know exactly what happened before he disappeared."

"I _told_ you, he was refusing my offer of medical attention," said Crusher.

"And?"

"And…he just said 'no', and then disappeared in a flash of light."

Yar grew still. "Was it very bright?"

"Blinding," said Walker.

"Why didn't you say so before? Good," said Yar with a slight smile.

"Good?" Crusher's expression grew immediately dark. _You self-satisfied bitch,_ she thought. "Is that all you have to offer, or are you going to help us find him?"

"I expect he'll surface again, Doctor. Just sit tight," said Yar. "Oh, and Keel…next time you want to introduce any new variables to the Picard equation, check with me first…." She turned on her heel and left the room.

The way Beverly was glaring at him, Walker distinctly felt as though all the air had exited along with Yar.

* * *

Yar reached a communications terminal quickly and began to type in code. Admiral Nechayev's perpetually severe expression appeared almost instantly. "Admiral," said Yar. "I am uploading the information Captain Picard gave us about the Borg. It's very little information, and most of it we already know. But I suspect that he knows much more, if he can be convinced to tell us."

"How do you know he knows more?" asked the Admiral.

Yar smiled. "He has the power of the Q." She had no intention of telling the Admiral that Picard had used the power and was nowhere to be found, because in her opinion, he would return. Must have been spooked by Beverly's interference. She recalled him saying that some of his powers had been taken from him, and if he'd been able to use his power to leave them permanently, wouldn't he already have done so?

"That is good news," said the Admiral. "You are authorized to use whatever _humane_ means you can to extract the Borg information from him, and in addition to convince him to use his power to help us."

"And Keel? Picard didn't seem exactly delighted to see him," Yar commented.

"He's served his main purpose, which was to help re-introduce Picard to his old life. If Keel shows signs of becoming a hindrance, please let me know, and I will have his security clearance removed and he will be removed from this project."

"What about cutting ties with the _Enterprise_?" said Yar. "We have the _Hood_ , so we don't need the _Enterprise_."

"That is my call to make Yar, not yours. For now the _Enterprise_ goes wherever the _Hood_ goes and vice versa. Riker and his crew have the most field experience with the Borg, and Jack Crusher has the best ship in the fleet. Besides, I want Picard to have the chance to acclimate back to his life, and I think he will best be able to do that aboard the _Enterprise_. In addition, something has come up and both ships are being ordered to the border of Federation space and the Klingon Empire," she said.

"Something?"

"The Borg, of course."

* * *

 **Klingon Kebet Colony**

"How many were taken away from this colony?" he asked his subordinate Lieutenant Krala.

She scowled through the smoky air. "At least twenty adult males and females, Commander."

Commander Worf nodded solemnly. "If they still live, they would be right to kill themselves before they are…subjected to the procedure."

"Of course," she agreed. "Will we chase them? Even if we are unable to rescue them we can give them an honorable death."

"Their ship is already out of the system. But we will send the warbirds after them."

Krala hissed. "It should be _our_ kill, Commander," she protested. "These Borg are ours to hunt."

"You will do as you are told," he growled. He looked back over his shoulder as the light began to dim. The suns were beginning to set on this small colony in every way imaginable, for there really was no colony left to speak of.

"Commander!" he glanced up as one of his lieutenants was beckoning him. He strode over to where a group of Klingons stood, staring down at something.

When he reached the group, they moved out of his way deferentially. Worf looked down at the twitching body. "It lives," he rumbled. He saw smoke beginning to pour from a small port on the thing's neck, and he knelt down beside it. Of course, like the others, it had a self-destruct mechanism. But Worf knew how to disable this, and as he knelt, pulled out his knife and cut a tiny wire underneath the being's elbow, preventing it from killing itself.

"Why did you spare its life?" shouted Krala, outraged. Krala was always outraged, even for a Klingon.

"We have new orders directly from the Chancellor," Worf said. "Beam it up to the ship and place it in stasis for the trip."

"Where are we going?" asked one of the soldiers.

"Federation space," said Worf.

* * *

The last few people had shuffled out of Ten Forward a few minutes ago, and it seemed like it was going to be a slow night. Guinan had only been on the _Enterprise_ for about one month, and had rarely seen it so quiet at 11 pm. She was diligently wiping down a table, when she heard a commotion from behind the bar, interrupting her quiet night. Glasses and bottles crashed to the floor, and she heard something or someone land with a loud grunt of frustration, pain, or both.

At that point she also began to experience a familiar but uneasy feeling, which is probably why she took a glass from a nearby table and wrapped it in one end of the towel, before approaching the bar. Holding her ill-fashioned weapon at the ready, she cautiously moved around behind the bar. She admitted, she hadn't expected to see a young man lying on the floor covered in pieces of glass and a mixture of synthehol and other exotic drinks. His white t-shirt was soaked in blue, as he sat up. She was struck by a strange familiarity, when he made eye contact with her.

"Look kid, that's my oldest bottle of Romulan Ale you are swimming in. Do you know how long it will take me to replace that?"

"Kid?" the man asked incredulously. "Listen," he said struggling to his feet. "You've got to help me hide. They are going to be looking for me."

" _Intruder alert, intruder alert,"_ the ship's computer began to announce repeatedly. The man straightened tensely. Guinan raised a pair of invisible eyebrows and smiled at the man as he brushed pieces of glass from his short brown hair. When he shifted his stance there was a crunching sound of glass under his feet. Captain Crusher was very particular about the carpeting on his ship, and this just would not do.

"Now," she said, "if _you're_ the intruder they're looking for, give me one good reason why I should help you hide, instead of clocking you on the head with this?" She held up the towel with a questioning look.

He sighed tiredly and leaned on the bar, as though he was almost resigned to being either caught by security staff, or hit on the head. She could tell that he was considering whether he should run, or simply give himself up. She noted there were tiny pieces of glass embedded in his face and forehead, creating a dotted pattern of blood on his face, but that seemed to be the extent of his injuries. Then she realized that she wanted to comfort him, not hit him.

"How did you get in here?"

He rolled his eyes. "My life…such as it is, has just become even more complicated," he said.

"You didn't answer my question," said Guinan.

He looked at her. "You didn't see me come in then?"

She shook her head no. "I certainly heard you…"

"I…couldn't prevent it. I tried, but I allowed my emotions to control me, and it just happened. I cannot allow that to happen again, or all chances will be lost."

"You're still not making any sense, but okay I'll play along: what chances?"

"I'm not supposed to be here. At least…I didn't think I was supposed to be here."

"But now you're not so sure? You're not sure if you want to leave here, are you? Why?"

"I don't know what I want. I suppose I need to figure that out."

"Does that mean you've decided not to run?"

"For now, I suppose it will do no good." _The Q always have a purpose. As much as I would like to be as far away from these people, from my old life as I can, there is a reason why I am here._

Guinan moved aside and watched him as he walked by her. His eyes fell on a bucket of ice sitting on the bar. "Is that…?" he looked at her questioningly. She glanced down at his hand, which seemed kind of swollen.

"That is a bucket of ice," confirmed Guinan. "Be my guest," she said and watched as he plunged his right hand into the bucket without further invitation.

"Ahhh…" he said, and leaned against the bar again. For a moment, she thought he was going to slump over on the bar unconscious with the amount of relief he was apparently experiencing. But then he picked up the bucket of ice and brought it over to a table, sitting down with it. He plunged his entire forearm into the bucket and propped his chin on his left hand, closing his eyes as the blessed numbness began to set in, replacing the painful heat.

He opened his eyes to find Guinan standing in front of him with a carafe of something red hued. "You know," she said. "I've been on this ship for a whole month now, and I've served I don't know how many drinks. But I still haven't shared a drink with anyone," she said slowly, sitting down across from him.

He looked at her closely. "You're not human are you?"

"No," she said. "And neither are you…at least you think you aren't human, which is close enough, as far as I'm concerned." She put a glass down in front of him and poured some of the red liquid into it. He noted that as she poured it changed colors before his eyes. There was a sense of surprise he had at that, which he wondered if he would have experienced just days ago before he left the Q.

"Now, this is pretty strong stuff, so I hope you are able to hold it…"

"I haven't had a drink in eleven years," he said seriously.

"Okay, then," she said without missing a beat. "I will see you when you wake up."

Picard laughed and downed the glass quickly. "What ship did you say this was?" He'd known immediately he wasn't on the _Hood_ anymore as he could see the ship drifting out in space through the view port.

She poured him another glass and they toasted, as she said "welcome to the _USS Enterprise_."

* * *

After the strange visitor seemed too inebriated to cause anyone much harm, Guinan sent a priority message to Captain Crusher, who was no doubt already ordering security to sweep the ship for an intruder. The Captain sent her back a typed message back indicating she should "keep him there". So apparently he was aware of who this intruder might be. She honestly hoped the captain would go easy on him.

A few minutes later the Captain arrived. After meeting her at the entrance of Ten Forward, Jack Crusher looked inside, and then turned to Guinan with a probing stare. "You got him drunk?"

She shrugged. "It wasn't my goal." She looked across the room at the man in the white and blue stained t-shirt, who was now lounging back in his chair, and indeed appeared quite drunk.

Jack inhaled sharply through his nose and then exhaled trying to relax himself as he slowly approached his old friend. This was not the way he expected to see Jean-Luc after all these years, but then he had not expected to see Jean-Luc at all, had he? Judging by how Walker had described his friend's reaction to seeing Walker, and then Beverly, he had no idea what to expect. And now that Picard was drunk, it added even more variables to the equation. He walked over and stood in front of the table.

Jack smoothed a hand over his hair. He was intensely aware of the security personnel standing behind him, and for some reason he realized he was worried that there would be a scene. How would Jean-Luc feel about seeing him again? What would he say or do? He found himself on guard, wondering if he would need to avoid a punch, as Walker told him Captain Riker had failed to do. "Jean-Luc…are you alright?"

Picard's eyes opened slowly. "Jack…your hair is still so damn perfect. I wondered when you would show up… seems to be a little reunion of sorts," he said slurring his words. "Beverly…no I didn't see that one coming. Not at all." He laughed, and then groaned, leaning in to the table. "That bartender poisoned me."

"Sorry about that," he heard Guinan say.

"Jean-Luc, we all missed you," said Jack. "Now, let's take you to sick bay and then we can talk later when you've sobered up."

Picard pushed himself to his feet unsteadily, and staggered forward, catching himself by grabbing the back of the chair. "Missed me…" he mumbled to himself with a laugh as though something was amusing him.

Jack, despite telling himself not to be upset, suddenly became so, but still he kept his voice as even as possible. "Yes, we missed you, Jean-Luc. Aren't you happy to be back with us?"

Picard shrugged, and picked up the bucket of ice, which was now mostly ice water, and put it under his arm as if he intended on bringing it to wherever he was headed next. "Happy? To see you?" he laughed again.

Jack grew red in the face. "You're not happy to see me? Jean-Luc, I'm your _best_ friend."

Picard staggered forward again, and the security officers stepped forward at the same time to protect Jack. Jack waved them off, annoyed. Picard looked him in the eye and smiled. He reeked of alcohol, stale sweat, and he was covered in what looked to be drying Romulan ale.

"You want to know how it feels, seeing you again, _Jack_? It feels like this," he said, and lifted the bucket of ice water up and dumped it unceremoniously over his own head.

Jack stepped back in surprise. Picard, now dripping in water, stepped forward and said in low voice… "you think I enjoyed watching you living _my_ life all of these years?" He slowly pushed the empty ice bucket into Jack's chest firmly until Jack grabbed the bucket from him. "Think again, best friend," Picard said and walked away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

He walked out the door of Ten Forward into nothingness, or so it seemed. Had he been new to the experience of walking in a void, he would have been frightened, or at the very least concerned for his own safety. But he had been forced to become familiar with this experience years ago, and he was not afraid. For a moment he believed he had returned to the Continuum, but to his surprise, instead of the elation he had expected he would feel, he felt uncertainty. But then he realized that he was standing outside the ship, in fact he was between the two starships.

"Feeling sorry for yourself aren't you?" said Q. He was in a form that appeared to be human; the one he adopted when it seemed he wanted to relate better to Picard.

"Yes," said Picard. "I'm becoming human again, as you said I should. And so it is my prerogative to feel sorry for myself or to do anything else I want."

"Anything you want? Even hurting the feelings of your sad sack best friend? That doesn't sound like the old Jean-Luc Picard. And hasn't the man been kicked enough, Picard?"

"What are you talking about? Jack is married to Beverly, they share a child together, and he has an impressive career. Isn't that enough for him?"

"He seems to have spent the last eleven years trying to fill your shoes, Picard, instead of living his own life. As you said so dramatically after immersing yourself in water, he was living _your_ life. How do you suspect that has worked out for him?"

"First of all, I was drunk when I said that…" he frowned, realizing he was still drunk, so if he wanted Q to listen to him, he had better stop using this line of reasoning.

"Q, I had no interest in joining the Continuum, you coerced me into doing so. Now I know you remember how this occurred, because you are incapable of forgetting."

"And your point is?" asked Q.

"My point is that I had an impossible choice to make, or rather no choice at all. Jack was going to be killed by that probe, if I did not agree to come with you. You intervened on that day only with the intention of kidnapping me. So if Jack has had a difficult time these past years…at least he didn't die."

"Well, there is no arguing with that," said Q. Q looked at him mischievously, and then reached out to take the _Enterprise_ , which instantly shrunk to fit into the palm of his hand. He peered into the tiny windows of the ship. "You've met all of your old friends, and either rejected or caused them offense in some way, isn't that correct? So it would seem, Picard that you have no further use for the paltry lives of the individuals on board this ship."

"I never said that," he said. "Wait. What are you intending to do with that ship?" he said warily.

"Well, maybe that depends on you, Picard. If I planned on throwing it to the far reaches of the galaxy with no means of return, or into a black hole, or a dying star, would you use your power to stop me?"

"Yes," said Picard, eyeing the tiny ship somewhat anxiously.

"Even if that meant your decision would prevent you from returning to us forever?"

"Yes," said Picard. "Now have I said the right thing?"

"No," said Q, putting the ship back where he had plucked it from.

"So," said Picard. "The correct answer was that I should _not_ have intervened in your hypothetical attempt to destroy the Enterprise. And by failing to stop you, you would have allowed me to re-enter the Continuum?"

"No, that's not the right answer either," said Q. "I was just trying to make conversation."

Picard glared at him.

"By the way that was an interesting use of your power of teleportation, Picard. Did you actually think that showing us you could move between two ships would convince us you should stay with the Continuum?"

"You are not amusing," said Picard. "I didn't intend to do what I did. All I could think at that moment was that I needed to escape."

"I am sure that Beverly Crusher would find that answer to be highly insulting. I would be careful about letting your emotions direct your use of power in the future, Picard. You still have a very impressive intellect which could be of use to you."

He began to walk away into the stars, and then turned back. "Or maybe …you _should_ rely on your emotions to decide next when to use your power. You be the judge," he said with a casual shrug. "But choose wisely, because you only have two chances left."

* * *

Picard blinked, finding himself back in a brightly lit room. He glanced around, and by the abundance of bio beds guessed that Q had sent him to sick bay—where Jack had wanted him to go. He was still in the same dripping wet state he had been in just seconds before he met with Q. He knew through experience that the passage of time meant nothing where the Q were concerned. "Oh." He staggered slightly, again realizing just how drunk he was.

There was motion out of the corner of his eye, and he saw a strange looking man with whitish-golden skin, staring at him from the entrance to sickbay. There was no judgment in the man's face, and for a moment he had the urge to go and talk to him. But before he could move, he felt a slight pressure on the side of his neck, and heard a hiss just as the room faded to black.

When he came to, he was in some kind of hospital recovery room. He had different clothes on, which was probably best. He sniffed, and realized someone had finally gotten fed up and had given him a sonic bath. He flexed his right hand and found that the pain and swelling were gone. He also noted through the opaque wall that there was a guard standing outside of the room. _No doubt for my own protection_ , he thought acerbically.

He heard strong measured footfalls, and before he could prepare himself, the door hissed open, and Beverly Crusher stepped in without a word. She stared at him, and then sat down slowly in a chair far away from his recovery bed. He was still alarmed by the sight of her, but no longer felt the need to leave the room.

He wasn't sure what to think or to say. She was just as beautiful as she had always been, except now she had more years of worry etched into her face. Recent days events probably hadn't helped, he thought. He tried to put himself in her shoes, but he could not. He hoped she didn't expect an outpouring of emotion from him, because it simply wasn't there. He wondered if it ever would be.

As he gazed at her he began to remember for the first time in years, how she had felt when they had made love. He found that he was still sexually attracted to her. He hadn't thought about sex in years, but now suddenly it was all he could think about as he sat there.

"Jean-Luc, you're staring at me," Beverly suddenly said quietly, breaking him out of his daze. Her face and neck had flushed a rosy color.

"You're very beautiful," he said matter-of-factly.

She laughed in embarrassment and looked down before meeting his eyes again. "Thank you," she said. "Um, is there anything you need?"

He shook his head no.

"And how does your hand feel?"

He wiggled his fingers. "Much better."

Several minutes went by, while he would periodically look at her, and then she at him, and then each would glance away. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, and looked up at the ceiling. Finally he thought of something to say. Something that would show he was interested to hear about her life, which of course he wasn't even certain he wanted to do yet.

"Are you the Chief Medical Officer on this ship?" he asked, trying to convey an expression that was not overbearing.

She opened her mouth slightly, surprised that he had asked her a question at all and maybe a little thrown off by the formality of the question itself. ".…I used to be," she said. "But I'm just a regular doctor on staff right now. I've actually been away for a while." She searched his face for some additional feeling, but she couldn't see much from him.

"Jean-Luc," she ventured. "I know you have been through so much. If you would ever want to talk about it-"

"No thank you," he said simply. Without meaning to, she had reminded him that he would be leaving soon. What was the point in talking about his experience when he hoped to return to the Continuum eventually?

"Oh, well maybe when you have had a chance to settle in…"

He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. "Oh, I'm not planning on staying long," he said almost casually.

Beverly turned her face away from him slightly, and wiped away a single tear. "I see," she said. "But where will you go?"

He gestured with his hand as though waving away an insect. "Oh…here and there."

"Well, I…I want you to at least meet Wesley before you leave..."

"I've already met Wesley. Granted, I last saw him when he was about five…."

Beverly placed a hand over her mouth to prevent a small sob from escaping her lips. She was then able to calm herself before speaking again. _Let's try this again._ "Walker said the powers you have…or had—well he said you must have known a great deal when you were with the Q."

He frowned. "Of course I did. I still do."

"Well, then you must know about Wesley…"

Picard shook his head and stared at her blankly. "Know what?"

Beverly pressed her lips together. "Jean-Luc, Wesley is your child. He's your son."

He shook his head. It wasn't true. He knew the truth. When he first was taken by the Q he had sought out that information, and found that Jack was Wesley's father. They had given him a brief opportunity to leave all those years ago. He remembered…yes he remembered when he had decided to stay with the Q. His inquiry into whether Wesley was his boy had revealed, well that he wasn't his child at all. It had been the last potential connection, the last thing he had needed to know. Once the Q told him the truth he believed himself free to join them forever…or so he had thought at the time.

"That's not true," he said, looking at her. He tried to smile at her, to convey that it was alright, to try and show some emotion. Because intellectually, he knew that was what human beings did to connect. But everything he said felt mechanical, and the emotions were forming so slowly, they lagged behind his brain. "Beverly, I was with the Q and so I know for certain that he's not my son. It's alright, I accepted it a long time ago."

She was crying, and he didn't know what to say to stop her from crying, so he just sat there. Eventually, she left the room, and instead of feeling relieved, like he wanted to feel, he felt empty.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

 _ **USS Hood**_

"I need to use your empath," said Yar, as Riker approached.

Captain Riker halted in front of her. "You need to _use_ my empath?" he repeated, not attempting to hide his outrage. "That empath happens to be Counselor Troi, who is one of my bridge officers, and she also happens to be my _wife_ ," he warned.

Yar looked at him in a way that conveyed she did not care if he was offended by her tone, and cared even less that she was being warned. "Fine. Whatever her actual title is, I still need her _assistance_ ," she said. "In case Captain Picard is less than forthcoming, I would like to have Counselor Troi at the _Enterprise_ briefing this morning to gather as much from him as possible-"

"You mean read his mind," said Riker with a half grin. "Doesn't quite work that way for an empath, Yar; but I agree, it could be useful to have Deanna at that briefing for all kinds of reasons."

* * *

 **USS Enterprise**

Wesley thought he was being tortured. The first ten minutes at the breakfast table with his parents was more awkward than he could remember it ever having been before. His Mom and Dad said nothing to each other, and very little to him. His Mom, who had her own quarters, had come over for breakfast and everything had seemed fine until they sat down to eat.

Finally, he attempted to break the silence. "What was all the commotion last night?" asked Wesley, taking a swig of orange juice. "I heard the intruder alert alarm, but it only lasted about a minute."

Beverly froze in mid-chew and stared at Jack. Jack scratched the back of his head. "Um, it was nothing son… just a drill."

Wesley looked at him disbelievingly. "Dad, I heard security guys running by my door…."

"Yeah, well, they were really into the drill, what can I say?" said Jack, hating to lie to Wesley.

He glanced at Beverly. She had been completely distant and pensive since having gone to see Jean-Luc in sickbay late the night before. She hadn't said a word to him about what she and Jean-Luc had talked about. He hardly understood why she had even come to breakfast— _oh right, to see Wesley_ , he thought.

"Mom, did you hear anything?"

She gave him a look that said "who me?" and shook her head, sipping her coffee. Momentarily she went back to staring vacantly at the wall.

Glaring at her angrily, Wesley suddenly threw down his napkin and pushed his chair away from the table.

Jack looked up. "Hey, where are you going?"

"To school," said Wesley over his shoulder, grabbing his data pad, and left.

Jack looked at Beverly. "Jean-Luc's roaming the ship in a drunken angry stupor and teleporting all over the place and Wesley's going to find out eventually."

"Soon," she said, finishing her coffee. She stood up and put on her blue lab coat. "I just have to find the right way to tell him."

Jack stood up too. "What happened when you met with Jean-Luc last night?"

"Why?"

He laughed. "Why? Because…I'm your husband. And maybe it would be nice if we could share things with each other again. Haven't we had enough secrets, Bev?"

"What the hell does _that_ mean?"

"What did he say to you last night? You're completely distracted this morning."

"Alright Jack," she said tiredly. "No more secrets. I told Jean-Luc that Wesley is his son."

"You _what_?"

"Yes, I told him. I told him because he told me he plans on leaving us again. I did what I thought was best."

"Were you trying to convince him to stay?"

Beverly looked at Jack pointedly. "Don't you want him to stay?"

"Not if he doesn't want to be with us! You should have heard the things he said to me in Ten Forward. That's not my friend, Beverly—"

She snatched her med kit from the table. "I don't want to hear this," she said. "Whatever he told you is between you two."

"So…when are you going to tell Wesley he's back?"

Beverly ran her hands through her hair. "This afternoon, after your briefing, I guess."

Jack nodded. "Good," he said approvingly.

She tilted her head toward Jack. "Thanks so much for offering to help," she said with angry sarcasm.

"You didn't even ask for my help, Bev, you never do."

"I shouldn't have to!"

"You seem to forget how well I know you, Bev. You _always_ do things your way, then ask for my opinion afterwards."

"Don't make excuses for not stepping up. He's your son too, Jack."

His eyes fixed on hers. "Are you sure about that? Now that Jean-Luc's back, that is…."

"Oh, please..."

"I bet he didn't respond too well to the news he had a son," Jack pressed. "Not so wonderful now, is he?"

She resisted the urge to throw her med kit at him. "I'm not going to even give you the satisfaction of engaging in your passive aggressive bullshit right now, Jack. I have to go to work now."

* * *

"Flex your fingers as wide apart as you can", said the doctor. Picard complied. "Now make a fist," the man ordered. He slowly balled his hand into a fist. It would not completely close.

He looked at the doctor with alarm.

Dr. LaForge stood back with a distinctly unsatisfied expression. "You have some slight nerve damage here and here," he said pointing to Picard's hand. "Lucky for you it will heal in time," said the doctor.

"It no longer hurts," Picard observed.

Dr. LaForge made a face. "Nevertheless you caused unnecessary damage to your hand by neglecting to get it fixed immediately, Captain."

"I'll remember that next time," said Picard dryly.

"Or you could simply avoid punching people in the face so that there will _be_ no next time," said the Chief Medical Officer. "That would be my medical advice to you," he said tightly.

"That may be easier said than done," said Picard slowly. "However I will take your advice under consideration, doctor."

Dr. LaForge seemed unhappy with that answer but said, "Good. You are officially discharged then. Oh, by the way," he said as  
Picard turned to leave. "Don't show up in my sickbay drunk again. Our resources here are used for people who are actually sick, not people who simply lack basic self-control…so go home and sleep it off next time, or stick with synthehol," he snapped, walking out ahead of Picard.

Picard watched him leave and wondered if there was anyone on this ship left whom he had not alienated or offended in some way-and it was not lost on him that he had only just recently arrived. He thought about the bartender in Ten Forward, and supposed that he could count at least one.

* * *

As he stepped out of his hospital room, he hesitated. Beverly was speaking to a tall good-looking doctor. They were amused about something, and he focused in on her mouth as she laughed. He could read lips, but decided for some reason he was not so interested in the topic, as much as the laughter it was eliciting. He had forgotten the perfection of her smile, until now. Just as her colleague turned to walk away, she said something to him and he smiled at her. Then she gave the man a light, playful punch on the arm.

She had never been that way with him. Jack yes; Beverly and Jack used to laugh all the time…but she had never had an easy way of being with him. He wondered if Jack would be jealous to see Beverly laughing with another man, or if it wouldn't matter. Should it? He himself didn't feel jealous watching the interaction, at least, it didn't _feel_ like the emotion he remembered. Still, there were the beginnings of something though. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate…was it _regret_? He honestly hoped not.

The corners of his mouth turned down, as he remembered their encounter in his hospital room the night before. He knew he'd said something wrong…of course she had cried. He'd hurt her. It hadn't been his intention. He was just trying to be honest with her. He remembered how important honesty had been to her in the past. He considered now, perhaps that honesty was no longer the best policy. After all, he would be here only temporarily, so why upset Beverly with the truth? He wasn't sure why it even mattered to him how she felt…it had been so long since he had cared about anyone. The problem was…he wasn't sure quite how to lie properly anymore. He opened his eyes and saw that Beverly was now standing alone in the middle of sickbay, looking directly at him.

She glanced around her, and then placed her hands in her pockets before walking toward him. "How do you feel this morning? No headaches?" she asked, guardedly.

"I am well, thank you."

"Considering the amount of alcohol you consumed last night, I'd say that's a miracle."

"It was that bartender. She insisted I have a drink."

"And so you had fifteen? I saw the blood test results, Jean-Luc." Beverly seemed distracted. She fell silent, and he had nothing really to say, so he just stood there. She seemed to be studying him closely. She walked closer and raised her hand hesitantly. For a brief moment, he assumed she would reach out to touch his arm, but then she put her hand back in her pocket.

"Do I appear different to you?" he asked curiously.

"No," she said shaking her head. Her expression was too complicated for him to decipher. "You look the same. But…you aren't, are you?"

"Decidedly not."

She lowered her voice. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes," he said, confident that he would not upset her this time. "You only have one? Everyone else seems to have so many questions for me."

She pressed her lips together. "If those aliens…the Q just abandoned you on that planet, why do you want to go back to them?"

He swallowed, and felt dizzy. He had to be careful. As familiar as she seemed, she didn't understand any more than the others did. It solidified his determination to leave humanity. "I don't think you would understand, if I tried to tell you."

"Try, and I'll tell you if I understand or not," she said firmly.

He scratched the top of his head. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I can't explain it."

"Maybe if you weren't in such a rush to leave us, you could find the words," she said.

"I don't feel human anymore," he said slowly.

"I'm here for you, and so is Jack. We can help you—"

"I don't _want_ to feel human anymore," he said, his voice deepening. He felt a strange surge of something, and knew it was the power. He struggled to suppress it.

Beverly watched in alarm, because when he spoke, his eyes turned bright white for just an instant, the same bright white she had seen just as he teleported away from her the night before. She stepped away from him, still watching as his pupils returned to their normal hazel hue.

He blinked, somewhat dazed but back to "normal" again. That had been a close one.

"Well," she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "I guess you've answered my question then. I won't beg you to stay with us, Jean-Luc. But whether you decide to stay here with us or not, I'm glad I got to see you again. And I will never forget the way you used to be." She turned and walked away from him quickly.

* * *

He watched Beverly leave, but then glimpsed someone approaching out of the corner of his eye. It was the pale skinned person with the strange golden eyes he had seen briefly the night before when he had first entered sickbay. The man approached him with efficient, yet oddly mechanical steps.

"Hello, Captain Picard," said the man extending his hand for Picard to shake. "I am Commander Data, First Officer of the _Enterprise_ ," he said. Picard studied him as he shook his hand. He certainly was not human. When Picard did not respond, Data continued. "Captain Crusher has ordered me to escort you to your new quarters and then to a briefing in conference room one."

"My 'new quarters'? I have no intention of staying on board this ship much longer," he snapped, and began walking quickly out and into the corridor.

Data kept up easily with him as he walked, and Picard noted that he could not hear the man breathing, even as they walked faster. "My understanding is that they are to be temporary quarters, sir."

"Don't call me sir…."

Data's mouth opened slightly in what appeared to be surprise. "What should I call you then, Captain?"

"I don't want to be called 'Captain' either. Frankly, addressing me as 'hey you', or anything else is entirely fine with me," he said.

Data nodded. "Very well then…my understanding is that you have been assigned temporary quarters…you," he said hesitantly.

"And I don't need an escort, either. Doesn't the First Officer of a ship like this have better things to do than babysit me?"

"Captain Crusher specifically said that I needed to 'keep you out of trouble' until the briefing," said Data.

"Oh, I am sure he did," Picard said sardonically.

"Yes…he did," Data agreed seriously.

Picard realized as he stomped through the corridors that he had no idea where he was going. He would have to take a few minutes to study the schematics of this vessel. "So I have been assigned quarters," he said. "I suppose that is an improvement over prisoner status, but still, I did not ask to stay, and I am going to leave when the first opportunity presents itself." He stopped abruptly as they reached a place where the corridor branched off, and Data walked in front of him.

"This way…you," Data said, gesturing to the right. They soon reached a doorway, and Data slowed.

"This is the section of the ship reserved for bridge officers' quarters," said Data. "We are to be neighbors," said Data. "We have some time until the briefing. Would you like to view my quarters?" Picard shrugged noncommittally and followed the man inside.

* * *

He looked around, feeling rather bored. Data showed him ten different paintings he had apparently made of the same four legged creature. After seeing the fourth painting, Picard turned to Data and said "Is that supposed to be a cat?"

Data nodded. "Yes, that is Spot," he said, and at that moment Picard felt a cat weave in between his ankles. He glanced down, guessing that this must be the inspiration for Data's works of art.

"Oh, hello," he said. He picked up Spot and began petting him or her. The cat purred agreeably. Finally, another ally.

Data pushed a panel and turned on a symphony which Picard immediately recognized as Mozart. Suddenly finding himself enjoying music for the first time in many years, he sat down on the edge of Data's desk, still holding the cat. He looked at Data. "Look, you are obviously a …sentient being of some sort—"

"Yes, I am an android," said Data easily.

"Oh, I see," said Picard somewhat surprised. "How fascinating," he said, and actually meant it. "Well anyway," he continued. "From one sentient being to another…it's not right for them to attempt to hold me here against my will," he said. "You must know that."

Data looked at him fixedly. "As a sentient person, you will no doubt be allowed to leave, should that truly be your wish. However, the Federation is currently facing a new and very dangerous threat," he said. "We believe that you have knowledge that can be of great help to us. Do you not want to assist us to protect our way of life?"

Picard put the cat down carefully, and stared at Data. For a change, he didn't have a clever answer at the ready. "Could I see my quarters now?"

* * *

 **Thanks everybody for reading (or re-reading) this story. I do appreciate your reviews as well, so thank you. -PP**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

The emptiness of his quarters only reinforced that he no longer had any personal belongings. It occurred to him that his family still owned a vineyard on Earth, but right now that seemed very remote in both space and time. With his right hand he traced his fingers absently on a desk top, suddenly lost in his memories.

"If you would like to furnish your quarters the computer has many templates to choose from," said Data. "Geordi helped me to design my quarters," said Data.

"Who's Geordi?" Picard said absently, sitting down in a chair.

"He is the Chief Engineer," said Data. "And my best friend," he added.

Picard looked up at that. "You're an android. And yet you seek out human companionship?"

Data nodded. "Yes. Most beings I have encountered so far, require companionship of some kind."

Picard laughed and slapped his knees, getting to his feet. "Well, I suppose you've never met the Q then. When I was with them…well I went for a very long period during the first three years, where they simply watched me. I suppose at that stage I was some kind of laboratory creature to them. They rarely said anything to me, and eventually I stopped trying to communicate with them."

"Were you lonely?" asked Data.

Picard walked into his bedroom. "No. I mean, I don't know," he said distractedly. He looked down at a nightstand next to the bed, and his eyes fell on a large green book. It was the only personal item in the entire drab living space. He picked it up and ran his hand along the cover tracing the gold inlay of the title.

"The Complete Works of William Shakespeare," he read out loud. He'd seen this book before…but when? He flipped through it quickly, and then opened the inside of the front cover slowly. _"From Jack, with love. Spring, 2343."_

* * *

Picard wasn't sure why he agreed to attend the briefing that morning, but it may have had something to do with Data's refreshing lack of aggressiveness. He hadn't pelted him with questions and hadn't tried to pry information from him. He appreciated that. But first he had demanded that he be allowed to take a shower. Part of him expected an argument, but of course, Data had agreed to wait for him.

The sight of himself in the mirror had given him pause. He hadn't seen his own reflection in many years. They were right. It had been eleven years and he had not aged a day since being taken. And yet he felt hundreds of years old in a way. He had shaved, because his loss of immortality apparently translated to having to once again deal with the mundane daily chores of personal hygiene.

He had chosen hot water over a sonic shower, and in truth it was the most wonderful thing that had happened to him since arriving back in the world of humans. He then changed into soft civilian clothing, and by the time he stepped out of his quarters to meet Data, he almost felt like new.

"Captain Crusher has invited the officers of the Hood over for this meeting, sir. I mean, you," Data corrected himself.

He smiled at Data. "This should be moderately interesting then."

* * *

When Picard and Data walked into the briefing, it was clear that they were more than a few minutes late. Jack confirmed this point by announcing "you're late."

"My apologies, Jack. But I haven't had a real shower in eleven years."

"Well, I guess we should all thank you for taking your time then, Jean-Luc."

Seated around the table along with Jack Crusher, was Captain Riker of the _Hood_ , sitting in between an exotic looking dark haired woman and the blond woman he'd seen in the interrogation room, who he assumed was Riker's first officer. Down the table sat a man with a visual prosthesis, Yar and Walker Keel, and across from them, Beverly Crusher and the Chief Medical Officer he had met earlier that morning, Dr. LaForge.

Data sat down next to the man with the visual aid, and Picard, not knowing where else to sit, sat down next to Dr. LaForge, who didn't look particularly happy to see him.

He leaned his head forward and made eye contact with Beverly sitting on the other side of the CMO, but she turned her gaze away from him after just a brief nod.

He told himself it didn't matter. In his left hand, Picard held a small synthetic rubbery ball that Data had given him. It was designed to look like a tiny planet, and for some reason he found it amusing to hold it in his hand.

To his surprise, Captain Riker actually looked like he was pleased to see him, which was a marked difference from nearly everyone else at the table. Riker nodded and smiled, silently throwing him a mock salute from across the table. The dark-haired woman next to Riker gazed at Picard with a curious expression, as though she was very interested in what he was thinking. _Ah...an empath_ , he thought. _Best of luck reading my mind…._

Jack Crusher cleared his throat suddenly. "I want to thank Captain Riker and his officers for joining us today. Riker nodded amiably. In addition, Captain Jean-Luc Picard has returned to us after a very long absence. We welcome him back as a dear friend and colleague." There was some brief applause around the table. "This is just the start of the work we have to do to prepare ourselves to face the enemy we now know as the Borg."

 _Prepare…_ Picard chuckled softly to himself and sat back in his chair. _They have no idea what is in store for them._ Jack shot him an impatient look but continued.

"Tomorrow we will reach the border with the Klingon Empire, where I am told we will meet up with a Klingon bird of prey, whose crew captured a Borg soldier. We're hoping that exposure to the Borg prisoner will help us to learn more about them."

Picard perked up a bit at this. He had always liked Klingons. The Q were somewhat prejudiced toward them, but then the Q were prejudiced toward countless other lower life forms.

He turned his head slightly to regard Jack, who was still speaking. "But there is something else. A Federation human colony near the border was attacked a few days ago, and we're to go and investigate. The people around this table will comprise two away teams to the surface."

There were several quiet gasps around the table at the announcement of the attack on the colony. Picard studied his hands absently, half-listening. Jack nodded at Riker.

"By now, everyone here has read the reports of the other two planets attacked in the Romulan Neutral Zone," said Riker. "Unlike those two planets, this new colony is now missing a number of its inhabitants, while other colonists were left behind and killed. An emergency team from a passing ship already landed and found no survivors, but didn't have the resources for a thorough investigation."

"That's where we come in," said Jack.

Riker nodded. "That's right. We need to know why, in particular the Borg kidnapped a number of these civilians."

He looked directly at Picard at that, apparently expecting some kind of information. The rest of the officers also looked at him expectantly. Picard simply smiled, and tossed the tiny ball into the air, casually letting it fall back into his hand. Even Riker clenched his jaw in apparent irritation.

Jack glanced around the table, trying to ignore the odd behavior of his old friend who was inexplicably playing with a rubber ball. "This is a chance for us to brainstorm. So let's throw some ideas out, everyone," he suggested.

"Has anyone ever seen a Borg ship? I mean do we know how they travel?" asked Geordi. "We have to assume they have warp capability at least as advanced as our own, judging by the amount of planets they have hit in just a few days."

All eyes turned to Picard, who was now carefully rolling the rubber ball underneath his hand on the tabletop in an attempt to achieve a perfect circle. Perhaps he needed a tiny moon to complete his experiment. He was thinking about asking Data if he had one, when Yar said something that warranted a response.

"Why are the Borg now kidnapping people when they were simply incinerating them before?" Yar asked. "One theory is that they are capturing victims for study."

"Not likely," Picard said under his breath.

"Hey you…"

Captain Crusher turned to Data with a puzzled look. "Data, who are you talking to?"

Data pointed at Picard. "I am addressing him," he said. "He no longer prefers to be addressed by the usual titles of rank. I was about to ask him why it is unlikely that the Borg would capture the colonists for study."

Picard broke into a slow smile, which quickly faded, when he saw the level of aggravation in the eyes of the people around the table who were staring at him expectantly. "To suggest that the Borg want to study humans is _very_ silly," he said.

"Are you calling me silly?" Yar said with a distinct edge.

"Only if you actually believe what you just suggested. That the Borg think humans are worth studying." He cleared his throat and squeezed the ball in his hand. "In any case, you won't learn much from one Borg," he said.

"Why?" Yar demanded.

"Think of the Borg as having a hive mentality. One Borg drone is simply a piece of a much larger culture," said Picard. "The individual has very little to offer. When one Borg drone is separated from the rest of the Borg collective, they will either return to the collective, or die trying."

"But what do they want with us?" Walker asked.

"I don't know," said Picard. "What do you have to offer them?"

"Dammit, Jean-Luc, you're acting as though you aren't a human being like the rest of us," said Walker.

Picard frowned. "There's no need to _yell_ , Walker."

"Don't you care that the Borg are targeting humans now?"

Picard laughed. "Do you want to know how I feel, or do you want to know about the Borg? It's your choice."

Jack slapped his palm on the table. "Jean-Luc, this isn't a game, just tell us about the Borg! Or do we have to beg you, you arrogant bastard?"

"Well… when you put it like that old friend, of course I will tell you," said Picard, squeezing the little rubber ball tightly in his fist.

* * *

After the briefing, Jack watched from the bridge as Jean-Luc and Beverly stepped into the same turbo lift together, and continued to watch them until the doors shut.

As the turbo lift doors shut, Beverly said, "Deck 10…halt," she said on second thought. As the lift slowed to a gentle stop she turned to Jean-Luc. "That was quite the little show you put on in there. You don't care who you alienate do you?"

"Alienate? What an interesting choice of words."

"Are you still part of the Q or are you human?" she looked at him searchingly.

"I suppose you can think of me as human, more or less," he said. "At least for now," he added.

Beverly sighed loudly. "Okay…I'm not quite sure what you mean by that, Jean-Luc, but I suppose I have to take what I can get." Beverly hesitated. "Look, I am going to tell my son about you today," she said, speaking quickly.

She held her hands up, he guessed in an attempt to keep him from talking over her. "I'm going to tell him that you are alive and here on the _Enterprise_. And he is going to want to meet you, of course, to see his own father. And I know you made it clear to me last night that you are not going to accept that he is your son."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes it is…you are in so much denial that I doubt a genetic test would even get you to admit it."

"Beverly…I was never cut out to be a father before the Q took me. Now look at me. Do you really think I could do better than what Jack has done?"

"This isn't about you and Jack and your endless competitions. This is about your son."

Picard looked up at the ceiling. "If Wesley seeks me out, I will talk to him."

"Thank you. All I ask is that you don't hurt him."

"Beverly…"

"Don't hurt my son, Jean-Luc," she warned him, pointing her index finger at his chest.

"I have no intention of hurting Wesley," he said, looking her in the eye.

She nodded and seemed to relax to a degree. "Resume," she said, and the lift continued downward.

"But I can't promise you that he won't be confused after he talks to me," added Picard. "Because I am not going to lie to him."

"Halt," she said through clenched teeth, and the lift stopped abruptly. "And what is that supposed to mean? That _I've_ been lying to him all of these years? That Jack has been lying to him? Jean-Luc, we thought you had been killed. We told Wesley once he turned seven. We told him who his real father was because we wanted to honor you, Jean-Luc—"

"Honor me?" he laughed so harshly, that she took an involuntary step back. " _If_ he was really my son, isn't it too bad you had to wait until I was gone to tell him? And you had to wait until I returned from the dead to tell me?" He slammed the side of his fist into the wall of the turbo lift. "Resume!"

"You didn't want to hear it, Jean-Luc! You and your career were the only things that mattered to you."

"Oh no, you are so wrong, so wrong," he said, looking down at the floor and shaking his head.

" _Halt!_ How?" she demanded. "How am I wrong?"

"Resume," he said quietly. "I _did_ want to hear it, Beverly. In fact it was all I wanted to hear. And I asked you. But you told me it was Jack. You _chose_ Jack." The lift finally stopped at its destination.

He turned to leave, but she reached out and grabbed his hand. He turned to her in surprise. " _Yes_ , Jean-Luc, I chose Jack. And I've regretted it for as long as I can remember."

"Well you can stop now," he said quietly retrieving his hand from hers. "As far as I'm concerned, you made the right decision to be with Jack. Besides…that's all in the past now." He turned and left her standing in the corridor.


	13. Chapter 13

**2326 France, Earth**

* * *

'Where are you going?" His father shouted after him.

"I'm going fishing at the stream, Papa" he said back over his shoulder, holding up a bucket with a fishing pole. Jean-Luc was nine years old.

"Your brother is still working out in the fields. Your laziness will make double the work for him," his father shouted.

"He's too slow, Papa. I already finished my work and some of Robert's." He knew his father would now go and inspect just to see if he was telling the truth.

"Fine," his father said dismissively waving his hand. "If I find you to be lying, you'll be doing Robert's work tomorrow." Jean-Luc wisely resisted his urge to shrug. His father looked down suddenly as a small dog scampered between his feet. "And take this blasted dog with you," he added.

Jean-Luc stopped walking. "Henri, come here," he called out. As he turned to see the little dog running to meet him, he saw his mother had come around the side of the house. "Jean-Luc, don't go past the stream, that's not our land," she warned. "Why don't you use the hover-bike?"

Hardly hearing her, he bent down to Henri, "Are you ready for an adventure my friend?" Henri's tongue lolled happily out of his mouth in agreement.

As they passed the fields his older brother Robert yelled out to him, "I've never even seen you catch one fish...idiot."

Jean-Luc stuck up his middle finger without comment as he passed.

It was late afternoon, but since it was mid-summer there were easily several hours of good light left. So they would reach the stream more quickly he began to run through the tall grass. He knew Henri enjoyed running as much as he did.

* * *

When they reached the bubbling stream he flopped down on the cool bank, and stared at the sky for a few minutes. He squinted in the hot sun, preferring to gaze up at the stars in the cool night.

Sitting up eventually, he took the fishing pole out of the bucket and placed it carefully on the ground. He had no intentions of fishing; in fact he hated the whole concept of it. However, he did like to be alone and away from the needs and wants of others for a few minutes, which was why he always came here, sometimes with Henri, sometimes not.

A few days before, he had come down to the stream alone, and for a moment he believed he saw a glint of light in the soil on the other side of the banks of the stream. He imagined it was an ancient artifact or perhaps a coin from a time gone by when people used money. He reached into the bucket and pulled out a small shovel and a small container to carry his ancient artifact, or whatever he should find.

Rolling up his pant legs he waded into the stream. He looked back and saw that Henri was sniffing something interesting in the grass, and seemed content enough to continue what he was doing. Soon Jean-Luc reached a place where there was a drop off, and the current was slower, the water much deeper. He gingerly tested by feeling around with his right foot, but could tell it was too deep to easily wade through. Glancing downstream he saw that the current picked up again and tiny whitecaps topped the current in some places. He pulled himself up onto a big rock and decided to get across by jumping from rock to rock. Some of the rocks were sharp and others were flat but slippery, wobbling as he stepped on them with one cold foot at a time. But within minutes he was to the other side of the bank.

He knelt down in the soft clay, and as the sun began to sink into the hills, a shadow fell over him, and he shivered. Gradually as he gazed down, he could see the same glinting in the soil he had seen before. Grasping his small shovel he began to dig in the soil. Even after he had dug about a foot down, he saw that the shiny glinting had not changed, and still appeared as a pinpoint. Frustrated, he continued to dig even deeper when Henri began to bark at him from across the stream. Henri would not stop barking, and Jean-Luc sat back on his heels and glared at his friend. "Shut up, Henri! I am trying to work here."

Distracted, he decided to take a break. Henri quieted, but started to pace back and forth anxiously. What was wrong with that dog? Suddenly a bright light began to emanate from the hole where he had been digging, which mesmerized him, but almost as soon as the light showed itself, it disappeared again into ground again.

Desperately he began to dig again, driven by something he didn't quite understand. Out of the corner of his vision he saw that Henri had entered the water, and was tentatively beginning to swim. Sweat poured down his forehead, stinging his eyes. When he looked up to yell at Henri to go back, the light began to flicker again, and dim. Angry and covered in grey dirt, he continued to dig looking up once to see Henri was swimming now across the stream. The small dog was struggling against the current. Again when he paused, the light flickered, driving him back to his task. The next time he looked up, Henri was nowhere to be seen. "Just wait, Henri, I'm most there," he whispered feverishly.

Out of breath, the small shovel had suddenly become so heavy he could barely heave it aside. "Henri!" he screamed and then threw the shovel down. "Henri!" He leapt into the water, and began to swim around frantically, looking for his dog. He dove deep and found that he could see nothing, nothing at all. Bursting to the surface, he let the current take him further downstream, searching desperately with his eyes. "Henri, come back! I'm sorry!" he screamed. But Henri was gone. When he finally dragged himself to the shore, he put his face into the sand and screamed until his throat was raw.

* * *

When he turned over in on his back, it was now dusk and he now could see across the other side of the stream a large bluish-white bright glowing light floating over the hole he had dug, and it was as if the most beautiful star; one of the stars that he loved so, had fallen to earth. But it was not beautiful; it was ugly because it had stolen Henri away from him. He threw the bucket in the direction of the light and it immediately winked out of existence.

It wasn't until long after dark that he began to make his way home. When he arrived at home, his eyes were raw from crying. After telling his mother what had happened, he didn't speak again for weeks, apart from saying "yes sir," to his father where appropriate. No longer could he take joy in any of those little things he had loved before, and he never returned to the stream. Then one night at dinner, his father had proudly put his hand on his shoulder and said, "You went down to that stream a little boy and returned a grown man." And although it might have been the only compliment his father had ever intended to give him, it only left him cold and alone.

* * *

 **Enterprise 2365**

Wesley stood uncertainly outside his mother's quarters after school that afternoon. Her new quarters were closer to sickbay than the quarters Wesley shared with Jack. This would probably be more convenient for her since she often had to get up at odd hours of the night. He didn't mind that she had chosen separate quarters upon returning to the Enterprise. He had grown accustomed to her not being physically present, so having her a few decks away was certainly better than her not being on board at all. He knew his dad saw it differently, but given how badly they seemed to be getting along just a day after she had returned, Wesley figured that a little distance early on was probably for the best.

He had been annoyed earlier that day at breakfast because it was clear his parents were keeping something from him. His Dad sometimes glossed the truth if he thought it would protect Wesley. But it wasn't like his mother to be anything but completely honest with him, and yet he knew she was hiding something. He knew ship's business was ship's business but there was something very odd going on, and as much as he had tried not to think about it, it felt like he was somehow involved. He turned at the sound of quick footsteps, to see his mother approaching, slightly out of breath.

"Hi," she said, stopping next to him, and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for coming to meet me." He nodded. She had thought telling him about Jean-Luc in her quarters would be more comfortable for him in case he felt the need to leave. And of course, Jack would not be around.

She thought back to her encounter with Jean-Luc in the turbo lift and wondered if she had said too much. She should have told him the truth a long time ago about Wesley, and she should have told him how she felt about him, even if it had meant they could not be together. But she had been afraid of losing Jack at the time. And she didn't trust that Jean-Luc would want the same things that she wanted. She knew that Jack did want those things, and so she stayed with him.

The Jean-Luc who had returned from the Q was not quite the Jean-Luc she had known eleven years ago. Walker had been right about that. Jack hadn't been entirely wrong in his assessment either. He was more aggressive, yet also more carefree, still very intelligent. Most notably, Jean-Luc now seemed amoral, whereas before he had always been concerned about doing the right thing. Now, when faced with this new Borg invasion, he seemed almost unconcerned. Now he seemed tied to nothing in particular, and his claims about intending to leave made her unsure of how to view his return. He showed no interest in resuming his career, getting to know his friends again, or even to reunite with his son. Of course all of this concerned her, but since there were still pieces of his old personality that sometimes shone through, she was willing to wait and see what he did next.

Then, there was the matter of his relationship with Wesley. To be fair, Jean-Luc clearly did not believe that Wesley was his, but of course if he needed proof, a genetic test was very easy to do. At some point it seemed that someone had told him a lie, perhaps to convince him to stay with the Q. Now, if he was to come to know the truth it would have to be because he wanted to know it, and no one else, including her would be able to force him to figure it all out.

Now inside her quarters, Wesley stood in front of her waiting expectantly. She knew that there was no point in pretending they were there to just chat. "Have a seat," she said quietly, gesturing to her couch. He sat down slowly, looking almost as nervous as she felt.

He rubbed his palms on his pant legs and sat forward. "Mom, what is all this about?"

She sat down across from him. "Wes, I think you already know that there is something…strange happening on board the ship."

"I figured…but you and Dad were being so weird about it, I didn't know what to think."

She sighed. "Well there's that too…well you know your Dad and I have been having trouble. And I can't guarantee that things will improve just because I am back."

"I know, Mom."

She smiled at him gratefully. "It means the world to me that you are so understanding, Wesley." He shrugged, obviously still waiting for what she had to tell him. She hesitated and looked down at her hands unsure how to begin. "Um…this is hard to explain what I am about to tell you. I am still coming to terms with it myself."

Wesley put a hand on his mother's knee. "Mom, it's okay. Go ahead."

She decided to adopt Walker's approach. "Wesley... Jean-Luc Picard, your father is still alive. In fact, he's on board this ship."

Wesley's mouth hung open and then he got to his feet. "But…but, he's been dead since I was little. Mom, this makes no sense!"

"I know, it doesn't son. But it is the truth."

"Why hasn't he ever tried to find me? Find us…if he's alive."

"I don't know the whole story yet, Wes' but he was taken by a highly advanced race, the entity we thought killed him actually took him away."

"So why is he back now?"

"None of us know," she said standing up. "And neither does he. They released him for some reason. And as a result he is very confused about who…and what he is. It might be difficult for you to get through to him."

The door hissed open and to both their surprise, there stood Jack. "Don't try and hide the truth from him, Beverly," he said, walking into the room.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" she demanded. "And what do you mean? I'm not hiding anything from Wesley."

"Your father is back, Wesley, but he's not the man he used to be. In fact, I will be damned if I let my son be alone with him."

"Dad, what are you talking about?"

Beverly turned to face Jack angrily. "Yes, Jack, please enlighten us."

"Beverly, he has superhuman powers and his arrogance is out of control. He can't be trusted, and he's not safe."

* * *

Jean-Luc Picard sat in his quarters, drinking a large glass of apple juice through a straw. It was the simple things he was remembering now, that he loved. He'd read the Complete Works of Shakespeare in about an hour, and now lounged with his feet up on the back of his couch. His capacity for thought and ability to absorb knowledge was still far greater than even the most intelligent human, and yet, unlike Data, he had no interest in all of the little details. And as vast as his new neighbor's knowledge was, many of the things Data knew, he knew in theory only. Picard, on the other hand had seen a black hole form in the space of what seemed like only minutes. He had gone back in time and seen civilizations rise and fall.

He told himself that when the Federation fell to the Borg, it would be just another of those lost civilizations. Part of him wondered if he was meant to observe the demise of the Federation, and that was why he had been returned at this time and place. There was also the possibility that he was supposed to participate somehow, or to affect the outcome in some way. But how?

* * *

He almost didn't hear the door chime, but the second time, he called out, "enter." He hadn't expected this visitor, but instinctively he knew this must be Wesley Crusher. He was a slender young man with large eyes, which were now intensely fixed on him.

He slowly swung his legs down to the floor, but remained seated. "Hello, Wesley," he said.

Wesley remembered that voice, deep and rich. He had only heard it sporadically through the first five years of his life, but it had left a lasting impression. "Hello," said Wesley, cautiously and moved to stand nearer to him. "Dad didn't want me to be alone with you."

Picard laughed, and Wesley jerked involuntarily, gripping the back of the chair. "Did he tell you I was dangerous?"

Wesley nodded. "Is it true? That you have powers?"

He shrugged. "Even if I didn't, Jack, your _Dad_ , would find some other reason to be jealous of me. No doubt, he thinks I have designs on your mother."

"Designs?"

"My old friends, including your mother and father-say that they want me to stay, and yet they seem to have trouble putting up with me. And yet you're here now."

"I wanted to meet you—"

"Jack's right, you shouldn't be alone with someone like me." He leaned forward. "I _am_ dangerous."

Wesley took a step back. "You know what I think?"

Picard watched the boy intently, glad not for the first time since returning to humanity, that he could no longer read minds. "What?"

"I think you're trying to scare me away…but you're more scared than I am."

Picard smile faltered. "So… now that you've finally met me, have I lived up to your expectations?"

Wesley folded his arms over his chest. "No."

Picard was beginning to admire the boy's fortitude. "Oh? Why not?"

Wesley's lip trembled. "All these years, they taught me to basically worship you, your image, your career, the great person everyone said you were. Before you disappeared, I remember you as this amazing figure in my life, even though I didn't know you were my father then. But whatever those aliens did to you…you think you're better than us now, but you're not. You're less than you were."

Wesley walked over and placed a small disk in Picard's palm, and then turned and walked out of the door. Picard stared at the disk and then placed it on the table, tapping it lightly. An image of him emitted from the disk. He inhaled deeply, and he felt something stir deep in his chest as he stared at the image. Was he still that person?


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

* * *

 **2348 Earth**

"Would you mind very much if I came to visit you?" Beverly Crusher's image showed up clearly on a small view screen next to his bed side. She sounded nervous, which was unlike her.

"Now?" He hadn't expected a call from her, especially at ten in the evening, and he was conscious of his disheveled appearance. He smoothed his hair self-consciously, and realized he hadn't shaved in three days. "You mean you and Jack…." he trailed off.

The Stargazer had been in space dock for repairs for a week now, and according to the engineers he and his crew could be expected to wait for another two weeks at least for the ship to be good enough to ship out again. Sometimes he wondered if the whole ship should just be scrapped. Each time they survived a battle, which they had recently done, the ship seemed more and more worn down.

Jack and Beverly had been together several years, married about a year, and Beverly had been serving with them on the Stargazer as a member of its medical staff. During the Stargazer retro fit, the couple had returned to their apartment in San Francisco, and Picard, after spending most of the first week at his family home in Labarre, France, had returned to San Francisco the previous night to a temporary apartment in San Francisco where he often stayed on shore leave.

He hadn't wanted to be too far away from Starfleet Command in case his orders to ship out came down sooner than expected. In truth, his trip home to France had been less than stellar. Instead of being relaxing, there had been alternating periods of boredom and anger as he and his brother Robert fought over nearly everything imaginable. All his trip home had done was reinforce why he had moved away all those years ago. During the last week, he'd heard nothing from Jack and Beverly, which was not unusual.

"Well…it would be just me," Beverly was saying. "You see, Jack flew out of town to see his parents, and for some reason I decided to stay behind. Jean-Luc,

I know it's late…I understand if it's an imposition."

For a few moments, Jean-Luc stared speechless at the view screen while mental alarm bells sounded in his brain. "No. I mean, of course no... it's not an imposition," he said, hardly believing what he was saying. "I will see you soon?"

She smiled and then the screen went blank. He jumped up and began pacing around his room. "What did I just do?" he questioned aloud. He glanced around his tiny apartment. It was obvious that a single person was living there. He had thrown items in various corners, knowing he would not be in town long.

His simple replicator made only basic meals, but it was late, and he doubted she wanted to eat anyway. So, what did she want? To talk? This was unprecedented. He and Beverly had a friendship of sorts, but it was usually through the medium of Jack. It wasn't that he didn't want to get to know her better, but he was simply afraid to because of his attraction to her. And now, she was coming over to visit him…without Jack. He considered calling her back to cancel, but he knew she was already on her way.

He'd been napping when she called, but he had showered in the late afternoon, so at least he was clean. But presentable? He looked down at his clothes, which was basically a Starfleet issue track suit. He looked…unsuitable. What did one wear when entertaining his best friend's attractive wife? Maybe it was best that he looked like a slob.

About 15 minutes later when the door chimed, he froze. There was a pause and the door chimed again. Maybe she would go away if he didn't answer? But how would he explain that he suddenly had to leave his apartment after just speaking to her. Be brave Jean-Luc, he told himself. He took one final glance around the apartment to make sure that nothing objectionable was lying about before saying, "Come in."

She stepped into his apartment, and to his surprise she was carrying a bottle of wine under her arm. "Hi," she said with a smile. "I almost didn't come after calling you…and then I stopped to get a bottle of wine to apologize for calling you so late. Sorry to ambush you like that."

He stared at her for a few moments, and then took the bottle from her. "Thank you," he said, and then nervously searched for some suitable glasses. He had none. How was that possible? His replicator only made food, and not good food at that. Searching in another cabinet he found two mismatched glasses. Pulling them out, he eyed them and found there was a cobweb in one. Had it really been that long since he stayed here? Moving to the sink and finding the back of his neck growing hot from embarrassment he quickly washed out the glasses.

He cleared his throat, as he turned to her holding the glasses. "This may be very difficult for you to believe, but I don't entertain much in this apartment."

She glanced around his tiny apartment with an amused smile. "I'm shocked to hear that, Jean-Luc."

Noticing that she was still standing wearing her coat, he said "please let me take that for you," and moved toward her and carefully removed the light jacket from her shoulders. As he did so, his knuckles grazed her shoulders, which caused his knees to buckle slightly.

"Thank you," she said eyeing him as he carefully placed the coat over the back of a nearby chair.

"Please, have a seat," he offered, setting the bottle of wine down on a coffee table. She sat down gracefully on the small couch, and he followed suit suddenly aware of just how small the couch was. At least he had minimal furnishings he thought to himself.

"So…" he ventured. "You said Jack had business out of town," he said pouring wine into her glass and then his own.

She smiled, but her facial expression tensed slightly. "Yes…he went to see his parents in New Chicago. I don't know when he'll back," she said, lifting the glass up and just holding it absently.

"Well, he'd better get back soon, or else we might ship out without him."

She smiled, but said nothing. "I'm sorry I called so late…."

"Really, you don't have to apologize. I like to see you…I mean…." He trailed off.

She shifted in her seat and looked at him. "You do?"

There was something about the way she fixed him with her gaze that made him begin to sweat. "Yes. I…would like to get to know you better. We don't always have the chance to catch up on the _Stargazer_ for various reasons."

She smiled at him. "Well, you're a very busy man. But here's to getting to know each other better." She lifted her glass.

"Yes, here's to…to friendship," he said clinking glasses with her.

He took a sip from his glass, but saw that she had lowered her glass and was staring into her lap.

He hesitated, then touched her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

She raised her eyes to his and they seemed almost aflame with something. "I shouldn't have come here tonight, Jean-Luc. It's wrong."

He took a deep breath and looked away. "Oh nonsense, we're just having a drink to friendship, Beverly."

"Is that what we're doing? Your hand is still on my shoulder," she said in a low voice.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly removing his hand.

"Don't apologize," she said. "The truth is Jean-Luc, Jack and I are having a hard time right now."

"Oh Beverly, you don't have to tell me that—"

"I'm telling you because I want you to know," she said.

He nodded. "Alright…if there is anything I can do for the two of you…."

She sighed and looked away, passing her hand over her forehead. "No, that isn't what I mean," she said sounding unsure of what it was she really did mean.

He put his glass down on the table, and took her hand lightly. "Beverly, I know you love Jack."

She looked at him. "Yes. So why is it that I think about you all the time?"

He pulled his hand away from hers. "I don't want to come between you and Jack."

"Maybe you're already there between us. Maybe you always have been. Jack knows it. I know it. Don't you?"

He looked at her then looked down. "Beverly, I don't know what you want me to say."

She reached out and touched his face. "I don't want you to say anything, Jean-Luc. I just want to be with you."

* * *

 **Present Day**

"Did you sense anything from him earlier Deanna?" Riker and Troi walked down a corridor on the _Enterprise_ to a meeting with Yar and Walker Keel. In truth, he hadn't been invited; Yar wanted to question Troi on her own about what she had sensed from Picard during the briefing. But he wasn't about to miss out on some helpful Borg information before they met up with the Klingon ship in about an hour.

"His ability to shield his thoughts from me is considerable…so, not much," she said honestly. "Aside from an unbridled ego," she added.

He nodded. "Yes, and it's probably an ego that needs checking. But how do you check the ego of someone with god-like powers? Anyway, I just wanted to know your thoughts."

"I do sense from him…a confusion about who he is, and where he belongs. I would say this is to be expected, given what little we know of his life with the Q."

"Do you think he can help us against the Borg?"

"Oh there is no doubt of his confidence in his ability to do anything…as long as he is a Q," said Troi. "But he doesn't know how to be human anymore and for now he doesn't relate to us on an intellectual or emotional level. So the better question is really does he _want_ to help us? That is not clear."

"Yar's not going to want to hear that," said Riker. "She wants his full cooperation."

Deanna gave him a look. "Now _her_ on her other hand... Picard is like some kind of prize to her. And I don't think she will rest until she gets what she wants."

Riker looked at his wife with some amusement. "And what is it exactly that she wants?"

Deanna frowned. "Certainly she desires a degree of control over the mission, but also over him. Perhaps she is under pressure from her superiors to secure his cooperation. And she has a sexual attraction to him, and to what she perceives is his power."

"I don't get it Deanna. Does she want him, or does she want his power?"

She looked up at him. "Is there any difference at this point? He seems to still associate himself with the Q, more than he does with humanity."

He shook his head. "I don't know. You may be right…."

* * *

At that moment, Yar approached and waved them into a conference room.

When they followed her inside, Riker asked, "Where's Keel?"

Yar shrugged. "He gets in my way," she said simply.

Riker raised his eyebrows. "Okay…so…?"

"So, he wasn't invited," said Yar, impatiently. "What exactly did you sense from Captain Picard, Counselor?"

Troi sat down and looked up at Yar. "That's a _very_ broad question, Yar," she said. Riker smiled, recalling he had just asked the same question minutes ago and received a simpler answer.

"Could you be more specific?" Deanna asked.

Yar sat down across from Troi, and seemed almost pleased that Troi was playing hard to get. "Is he holding anything back about the Borg?"

Deanna considered the question a moment. "I would say, yes…but mainly because he has too much information to give us. He literally knows everything about them. Imagine how difficult it must be for him to communicate that amount of information to us."

"Assuming he wants to," said Yar.

"Oh, I actually think he is willing to give us what he has. Maybe at first he was not so willing. But now, at the very least because he is curious what we will do with the information, he seems willing to provide it."

"Does he want us to succeed against the Borg?"

"Right now it is unclear if he has any stake in whether we succeed or not. He still seems to view us as separate from him, even though there are people on this ship, who he should clearly feel tied to. If he does feel a kinship with us, he is not yet ready to reveal it. He still thinks and acts like…"

"Like the Q," finished Yar, with a slight smile.

Deanna smiled tightly. "Well, Yar, you have me at a disadvantage there, as you seem to know much more than me or anyone else about the Q."

"I have my sources." Yar sat back and studied Deanna. "How much would it take, do you think, to establish a trust with him?"

Deanna tilted her head out of curiosity. "For what purpose? To convince him to stay here with us, or to use him?"

Yar didn't answer, but stood up quickly. "Thank you, Counselor, you've been quite helpful. Captain," she said nodding at Riker, and then strode from the room.

Riker turned to Troi immediately. "I don't trust her, Deanna."

"Well, she is working for Starfleet Intelligence, Will. I don't think her job is to inspire trust."

"Deanna, I know you probably won't agree with this, but I'm going to warn Picard about Yar."

Deanna smiled warmly. "Of course I agree, if you think it's best. I would just caution you, Will, since he is somewhat unpredictable." She paused. "You like him very much, don't you?"

Riker smiled back. "Damned if I know why, but yes… I do."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

Walker entered Picard's quarters with some trepidation, even after he heard his friend's voice say "come in", which sounded familiar enough. The quarters were dark and somewhat messy. He squinted and saw Picard seated with his back to Walker hunched over a small computer screen. He was dressed only in pajama pants.

"Beverly asked me to check on you," said Walker cautiously. Picard continued to type without pause. "She said Dr. LaForge examined you for your physical this morning and that you have put on several pounds in the last two days." He kicked an empty soda can out of the way with his boot. Two empty cartons of ice cream lay abandoned on a nearby table. _Now we know why_ _he's putting on weight,_ he thought. "And she also said your charts showed some kind of film on your lungs…as if you've been inhaling...smoke," Walker coughed, and waved a hand in front of his face distastefully.

Picard turned halfway around to look at him, and then returned to what he was doing. "Well, yes I have..." he admitted. Several large empty glasses with straws were cluttered around him on the desk and at his feet. A strange oblong object was clenched between his teeth, and as he typed furiously at the keypad, the object periodically emitted puffs of smoke. Pausing, he took the object out of his mouth momentarily and reached over to slurp from a drink with a straw.

"Anyway," he said, "Beverly always used to say I was too thin and didn't eat enough. So she should be pleased I've put on a bit of weight. At any rate, why hasn't she come to check on me herself?" He actually sounded somewhat hurt; whether this sentiment was sincere, Walker couldn't tell, as Picard resumed his rapid typing.

"She's probably afraid to be alone with you, Jean Luc. And I can't blame her..." Walker added under his breath. He picked up one of the empty glasses and examined it. "What have you been drinking?"

"Root beer floats," said Picard continuing to type away. "These new replicators are marvelous," he observed.

Walker looked around the room in disgust. "How many of these have you had?"

Picard shrugged. "About ten, so far today," he said and then burped loudly.

Walker stared at his friend. "Is that a real cigar?" He had struggled for the correct word for a few minutes, before thinking of the word "cigar". He had read about people smoking in the distant past but had never actually experienced someone engaged in the act. Picard nodded.

Walker stared at his friend. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"On the contrary...my mind is here and in quite an advanced state," Picard said, not looking away from the screen.

"But you've apparently lost the concept of how to eat and drink properly and how to take care of a human body. Look at you, you're a mess!"

"Perhaps I have just regained my interest in living," said Picard mildly.

"I can't recall you ever eating ice cream or even drinking a soda, much less lounging around in your pajamas."

"Exactly my point, Walker...and what a crime that is..." he said with a small smile.

Walker pulled up a chair next to him. "I'm on to you...you're not trying to live better. You have no intention of staying here with us, and so you have no thought of abusing your body while you're here."

Picard turned and fixed him with a rational expression. "Can you think of a good reason why I shouldn't enjoy myself while I'm here?"

Walker fell silent for a few moments. "Jean-Luc, do you even remember the kind of man you were before?"

"Dimly," said Picard.

Walker sighed loudly, and leaned back in his chair. "You know, I'm glad Beverly didn't come with me to see you. She doesn't to deserve to see you like this."

Picard looked at him and smiled, taking a big puff from the cigar. "Frankly, Walker, I think she's missing out." He spread his arms wide. "Look at all I have to offer now! Or do you think she really preferred the old boring me?"

Walker stood up. "She _loved_ the old boring you, Jean-Luc."

Picard spun his chair around slowly to look up at Walker. "Did she _really_? You see, I thought perhaps because she married Jack, that she loved _Jack_ …and then so many years later, upon my return, I find she's still married to Jack…so I'm sure you understand my confusion, Walker."

"Jean-Luc, a lot of things changed while you were gone. Jack and Beverly aren't…well they aren't really _together_ anymore."

Picard started to laugh. "Walker, look at you trying to play the matchmaker again!" He shook his index finger back and forth. "Not happy with the results of your last try?"

Walker, flexed his fist, and for the first time ever realized that he wanted to hit his friend in his smug, cigar-smoking face, but part of him knew Jean-Luc was kind of right. He had introduced Beverly and Jack all those years ago, and had deliberately shielded Beverly from meeting Picard first; a decision he had forever questioned since, because he was well aware of the way that Beverly felt about Jean-Luc. And now, maybe Picard's bitter tone was justified. Maybe now, he decided, he should just leave well enough alone.

Walker sat back down, and watched his friend closely. He had returned to his incessant typing. He was in the prime of his life, and Walker, well at least physically, was now over two decades older than Picard. But it didn't matter. He couldn't hate his friend, no matter how he had changed, and above all he was just happy to have him back. Walker leaned forward and for the first time, wondered what Jean-Luc was working on so busily. "What are you writing?"

Picard abruptly put out his cigar on the wall, leaving a burnt smudge. "I thought you'd never ask. You people wanted to know everything I know about the Borg, and since it is obvious I am not able to convey everything in the course of a few meetings, I've decided to write a summary of everything that I know about them. And it's almost finished." He turned and gave Walker a sly wink.

* * *

Later when Walker met with Beverly in Ten Forward, he considered not saying anything about Picard, but knew that wasn't really an option.

"How is he doing?" Beverly asked almost immediately.

Walker smiled slightly at this loaded question. "He's still behaving like a real pain in the ass," he said.

Beverly, said nothing, just poked at the salad on her plate. "How did he look?"

Walker hesitated. "He still doesn't seem to be able to dress himself…."

She glanced up with a questioning look, but he decided not to pursue that one further.

"But he is writing a report, he says, that he thinks might help us figure out the Borg."

"Well that's positive," Beverly said, brightening somewhat. "Does that mean he actually cares what happens to the human race?"

"One can only hope," Walker said.

Beverly tapped the table with her fingertips. She had to get back to work in the lab soon. "Did he say anything about Wesley?" she ventured, trying not to sound too hopeful.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Bev. But I do think I was able to convince him to stop smoking."

"What? He's smoking? Of all the idiotic things-"

Walker shrugged. "I think he's just testing out his body, to be honest with you. He probably missed having a human body."

Beverly got up from the table. "Spare me the details of Jean-Luc Picard the hedonist. I'm not sure I want to know, Walker. Listen, I have to get back to work."

* * *

"Come in," Picard said testily. He stood up from his computer, and not for the first time, realized he missed the ability to see into the future. He didn't know who was coming in his door until they showed themselves. He also realized that he would have liked to see Beverly Crusher walk through the door, and yell at him for smoking, but instead it was Captain Riker.

Riker walked in and immediately flashed back to finding Picard down on Delvora. "Do the Q have no use for clothes? It's the afternoon and you're still in your pajamas."

"Clothes?" he scoffed. "We have no use for bodies, so of course we have no use for clothes to drape over them."

"Well, thank you for at least wearing pants, this time."

"You're welcome."

Riker sniffed. "I smell smoke."

Picard moved around behind his computer. "What can I do for you, Riker?" In truth he was rather glad to see Riker, for some reason. He pulled out a tiny disk from the terminal, and threw it to Riker, who caught it, surprised.

"What's this?" Riker examined the tiny disk.

"It's a report…on the Borg. Could you give it to Yar for me?" He shrugged. "Or keep it for yourself if you wish," he said not seeming to care either way.

Riker broke into a slow grin. "So you decided to help us out after all, I see?"

"I am merely imparting some information," said Picard impassively.

Riker's smile faded slowly. "Tell me the truth, Captain. You said you've seen the Borg destroy many other worlds. Do we stand a chance? Does Earth stand a chance?"

Picard picked up an apple and bit into it noisily. "There is always a chance, Riker. No matter how slim, it is always there," he said.

"So, if I give this to Yar…do you think our chances will be the same as if I were to just keep the information myself, or to give it to Jack Crusher?" Riker asked.

Picard smiled. "Riker, I can no longer see into the future. My insight only goes so far. As far as I'm concerned, Yar is as good as any to give my report to."

"About Yar…" said Riker, as Picard walked away from him, munching his apple.

"What about her?" Picard asked, sounding extremely bored.

"If I were you, I would watch out. I think she's interested in you, and not just for your Borg report."

Picard turned and looked at him with renewed interest. "Oh?"

"Counselor Troi believes Yar has a sexual interest in you…I just wanted to tell you, to warn you I suppose."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "You came down here to warn me that a beautiful woman wants to have sex with me? I appreciate the effort, Riker, but I would have thought you had more pressing matters to deal with right now."

Riker frowned. "Look, I just think she wants to use you—"

"And what makes you think I don't want to be used? Have you ever gone eleven years without sex?"

Riker laughed. "Point taken. But I guess I supposed that if the Q have no use for bodies then they have no use for sex either."

Picard sat down and put his feet up. "That is true what you say," he admitted, stretching his arms over his head. "But I've been out of the Continuum for a few days now, and you would be surprised how quickly the sensations and physical urges have returned. In fact, I am feeling very-"

"No need to elaborate," said Riker, walking over and sitting down in a chair across from him. "I get it. I guess I also assumed based on my observations that you were in some kind of relationship with Doctor Crusher."

"And did you also assume that she might be married to _Captain_ Crusher?"

"It's hard for me to imagine that in your state you would let that stop you."

"Let me tell you something, Riker," said Picard, closing his eyes and leaning back. "A two week-long affair from sixteen years ago does not make a _relationship_."

"Yes, but Walker told me—I mean, he said you had a kid with her."

"Allegedly," said Picard, opening his eyes slowly.

Riker put his hands up. "Whoa…. Okay, you know what? I think I am going to stay out of this one," he said standing up and stretching. "Thank you for this," he said, holding out the disk. "And consider yourself warned about Yar."

As soon as Riker left his quarters, Picard felt drowsiness sweep over him. He had been working on that report for some time now, and perhaps all of the ice cream was making him sleepy. He shut his eyes again and hoped for a dream.

* * *

 _"In the turbo lift… when you said you regretted choosing Jack…"_

 _"Yes?"_

 _"Did you really mean it?"_

 _"Of course I did," she said leaning over him. She stroked his chin lightly before kissing him gently on the mouth. Her kisses moved lower and he was almost frozen in place. He had forgotten what that felt like—what she felt like and it was intoxicating to him. He fit his palm into the small of her back and pressed her to him tightly, placing kisses along her collarbone. He rolled her over and they brought their mouths together again. She slipped her hand underneath his shirt, and her fingernails sunk wonderfully into his chest and dragged downward over his stomach, stopping at his belt. "Admit it," she said, whispering a demand. "What? Anything," he agreed breathlessly. "You know…" she said. "Admit that you know…."_

"What?" he cried out, waking up suddenly. He had fallen asleep sitting upright on the couch, and his neck jerked up at an uncomfortable angle. "What?" he said in softer voice, his heartbeat drowning out everything but the pounding in his ears. "I can't," he said, as if still answering her. But she wasn't there.

* * *

"Data to Captain Picard," the android's smooth tones addressed from the communication fixture on the wall.

Picard had just dressed himself after showering, and he couldn't get the dream out of his head. The intensity of it left him with both mental and physical impressions. Perhaps he needed a distraction. "What is it?"

"We have reached the rendezvous point at the Klingon border, and the Klingon bird of prey Batleh is already here. The Borg prisoner will be transported from the Batleh to a special holding facility in sick bay shortly. Captain Crusher is requesting that you meet him in sick bay to provide consulting assistance, Captain."

"So, what you are saying is that _Captain Crusher_ needs my assistance," said Picard, unwilling to keep the superior tone from his voice.

"Captain Crusher said you might mention that. He said that if it made it easier to convince you to come to sick bay, to tell you 'yes', that he does need your help."

Picard scowled, but since no one was there to see it, the effort was mostly wasted.

* * *

Picard circled the Borg with open curiosity. It had been some time since he had seen one of these creatures up close. It stood upright in a medical bio-chamber, but was supported by restraints. Had the restraints not been there, it would have fallen over. "It's nearly unconscious, Jack," he said stopping and staring it in the eye. The other of its eyes was in fact missing, having been replaced by an ocular implant.

"What do we do? Can we wake it?" Jack asked warily.

"It looks weak," said Beverly, standing next to Jack. "Perhaps if it were given nutrients it would be more responsive."

Picard shook his head. "It needs re-generation and it can't do that here. It doesn't need nutrients, it needs an alcove," he said. He turned to the Klingon commander that had beamed over with the prisoner. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

Worf nodded. "Yes, but we were under orders only to beam over the prisoner not to share all of our contraband from the planet."

"Well, in the interest of sharing and cooperation, can we get some help here?" asked Walker.

"Klingons do not…share," said Worf.

Picard stepped around the back of the Borg. Abruptly he stuck his hand underneath armor attached to the Borg's back, and it jerked forward spastically. " Jack and Beverly both jumped at the same time.

"Jesus, Jean-Luc, could you give us some warning?" said Jack, brushing sweat off of his face.

Picard smiled craftily. "Sorry Jack, this isn't an exact science." He nodded to Yar, who had been watching closely. "You'll have a few minutes at least to question it. But unless Commander Worf is willing to hand over his alcove, which it sounds like he is in possession of, this Borg will expire."

Worf frowned. "Why should I want to keep the Borg alive?" he demanded.

"The whole point of this little exercise was for you to bring a _living_ Borg to us, so that we could gather information from it," said Walker.

"Which I have done," said Worf. "See?" he demonstrated by prodding the Borg, which responded by jerking its arms wildly. "It lives," he growled.

Yar moved forward and stood in front of the Borg. "What is your designation?" she demanded. The Borg's ocular implant spun in a circle, and it seemed to look at her.

It moved its thin lips, but no sound came out. Picard doubted she could expect much more than that from the Borg in its weakened state.

"Which trans warp conduit did your ship originate from?" Yar demanded.

Riker and Walker looked at each other. _Trans warp conduit?_

The Borg began to slump forward again. Yar turned to Worf. "Enough grandstanding. Are you going to share the Borg technology you've got on your ship with us or not?"

"I have no authorization to do so," growled Worf.

Beverly looked to Picard. "Does that mean he's just going to die?"

Picard rubbed his chin. "How powerful are your cortical stimulators? They would need to withstand substantial electrical feedback, which could destroy them."

Dr. LaForge blinked. "Please clarify what the hell you are talking about," he said to Picard.

Picard pointed at a green instrument sticking out of the Borg's forehead. "This is the Borg's cortical node. If it fails, the Borg will be replaced with another drone, and it will be forever out of commission, for lack of a better word, and useless to you. My suggestion, if you want to keep it alive, is that you shock the cortical node with a stimulator and hope for the best."

Beverly looked at Dr. LaForge. "Mark, what do you think?"

Doctor LaForge appeared as skeptical as she felt. "Let's try it," he said.

A few minutes later when Drs. LaForge and Crusher had completed the procedure, the Borg was far more alert than it had been before. It swiveled its head from side to side.

Yar moved in again. "What are you doing here in the Alpha Quadrant? What do you want with our people?" she demanded.

"…to assimilate…" the Borg's voice was flat, yet somehow there was a singular confidence in its words.

"What?" asked Yar.

"You will be assimilated, your technology will be improved. Primitive humanoid life form," said the Borg.

A chill seemed to run through the room. Picard stepped forward again and peered into the Borg's face. "Go back to the Delta Quadrant," he said commandingly. "Borg technology is superior to Human, Romulan and Klingon technology. Their technology is redundant and they will not be assimilated. Go back," he repeated.

"We will not return until all forms of useful life are assimilated."

Picard turned to Riker and Jack. "I suggest you inject it with a virus through its cortical node, while it is still part of the collective. You may be able to take out one ship at least."

"Won't that just slow them down?" asked Riker.

"You don't have to listen to me, I'm just the consultant," said Picard with an unrevealing expression.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

 **Some years ago in the Continuum...**

"Every Q has a pet project of sorts…a specialty," said Q. "I have humans, for instance. But your interest in this cyborg race is a bit on the obsessive side."

"They threaten all of the variety, individualism and beauty in the universe, Q. They threaten life itself," he said.

"Yes, but until they present a threat to the Q, which they can never possibly do, they are not worth your time or attention."

"I will be the judge of that," he said. "I prevented six more star systems from coming under Borg control today, and I intend to continue."

Q was puzzled. "Even with your powers—our power, you will never be able to stop the Borg by distracting them, moving planets, or making societies disappear through temporary trickery. The Borg will return to those places and find a way to carry out their aims. You cannot be everywhere at once, even if you can be _nearly_ everywhere at once. Because it is when you are not looking, that they will accomplish their greatest destruction. Do you not see this?"

"What I see…is that I have an immense power, and if I do not use it for good, what good am I?"

"You are not good, and you are not bad. You are Q. Eventually, you will come to see this, and life will be much easier for you."

"Oh? You mean not caring is easier?"

" _Infinitely_ ," said Q. "But by all means, continue to carry out your attempts to thwart disaster for these countless minor, and should I add, _ungrateful_ races. Just remember, what the elder Q told you about the one rule."

"You mean that I cannot annihilate the Borg?"

"I will remind you that as a Q, you are forbidden to destroy any race, even to attempt to do so. Torture them, toy with them, but do not destroy them. If you break this rule, the Q will be done with you, and we will simply re-create what you have destroyed."

He had agreed to this rule, and he never broke it; never seriously considered removing the Borg from the face of the universe as though they had never existed. He continued his attempts to thwart them, to divert them from coming ever closer to human-colonized worlds. But eventually, he lost most of his loyalty to humanity, and then even later on, he learned that Q had been right.

He had visited those worlds he had shielded from the Borg, and discovered that for most of them, the Borg had returned. They had killed, mutilated what they did not kill, and taken what they wished. And so ultimately he with all of his power had been helpless to stop them. It was then that he stopped trying.

* * *

Jack, Riker, Walker and Yar called an emergency meeting to discuss Picard's suggestion of introducing the virus, and Data and LaForge were called in as well to offer a method to implement the plan.

Jack stopped on his way out of sickbay. "Jean-Luc, we could use your help…." He glanced at Beverly, who was turned away from them, checking the Borg's vital signs.

Picard glanced up at Worf, who stood nearby, before turning back to his old friend. He shook his head. "No."

"No?"

"That is what I said, Jack."

Beverly turned around, and was now watching them both.

"You're refusing to help us…I can't believe this. You're a _human being_ , Jean-Luc!"

"Am I _really_? Tell me…what makes a human being?"

"You're in denial. You don't even know who you are!"

"Rub it _in_ , why don't you, Jack? Can't a person have an existential crisis without also being judged for it?"

"This is a joke to you isn't it? You gave Riker a 20,000 page _summary_ of what you know about the Borg."

"Did you read it yet? You should have seen the unedited version, Captain, it was just…brilliant."

"Why give us anything? So that you can watch from the sidelines as we fail? Are we your little experiment now? If it's all so easy for you, Jean-Luc, why don't you just take care of the Borg yourself?"

Picard's expression grew immediately serious. "I am capable of acts you couldn't even imagine, Jack. What are you asking of me? To annihilate the Borg? Is that what you want?"

"No!" Beverly walked to the doorway and took Jack's hand. "That's not what we're asking of you… is it Jack?"

Jack glared at Picard stonily. "I'm asking him to give a damn…like he used to. But I'm not getting anywhere am I?"

Beverly put her arm around Jack's waist, and for the first time since his return, Picard felt the old jealousy creep in. What a sad, limiting thing it should have been to experience such a base emotion, after so many years as an advanced being. But instead he was invigorated by it. It reminded him of his dream of Beverly. He needed to speak with her about it…to understand if it had some greater meaning.

Picard took a step back, and suddenly his head was filled with all of the things that he hadn't thought about for the past eleven years. He watched Beverly quietly reason with Jack, and he was fascinated by his innate reaction to this interaction, as his heart rate increased and his face warmed. Beverly said something to Jack again, and he nodded in agreement with her, before stepping from the room.

* * *

Beverly walked past him, and he caught her arm without thinking. She stopped in mid-step and turned on him, alarmed. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Jean-Luc?"

"I—I need to speak with you."

"No. I have work to do… so let go of me."

He slowly loosened his grasp on her arm, and she moved away quickly through sickbay.

Picard turned to Worf, who was watching the Borg, now housed in a protective room.

"Do you think she's angry with me?"

"I do no not know," said Worf honestly. "I am more familiar with the moods of Klingon females."

"I see…well, would a Klingon female be angry with me?"

Worf turned to him seriously. "Had you touched a Klingon female in the same manner without her consent, she would have removed your arm from your body. But no…she would not have been angry."

Picard absently rubbed his arm, and watched as Beverly disappeared into her lab at the far end of sickbay. "This is probably a very bad idea," he murmured, before following her.

"What a strange human," muttered Worf, watching him go.

* * *

When Beverly walked into her lab, Felix glanced up in the rather cheerful way he had, and said "Hey, Bev," before returning to his work.

Beverly walked over to the supply closet and began rummaging inside. When she turned around, Picard was walking into the lab. He made eye contact with her, and stood there, looking somewhat jittery. His demeanor now was very different than the cool confidence he had displayed with the Borg prisoner, and the calm arrogance he had used to frustrate Jack. _Oh…this is just wonderful._

"I need to talk to you," he said, rather insistently, taking a few steps closer.

She looked at him, and moved around him, feeling a nervousness that she knew was related in part to his status as someone who was no longer quite human. She was also nervous because he was now standing very close to her.

"Not now," she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "I'm busy," she said.

"I don't care," he said, slamming his fist down on the table suddenly. "I had a dream about you…"

He put his hands behind his back, suddenly alarmed at the strength of his own emotions, emotions he hadn't felt in years. He knew he was being selfish and childish, but he wanted desperately to be alone with her.

Beverly flushed. "Jean-Luc, I'm at work, and you're being nothing but rude and disrespectful to me," she said firmly. "Now, please go away…and maybe I will speak with you later—if you are willing to act appropriately." She saw over Picard's shoulder that Felix was now watching them with concern.

Picard crossed his arms like a petulant child. "But I—"

"Excuse me," said Felix, stepping forward with a quiet but commanding voice. "Is this man bothering you, Doctor?"

Picard backed away from Beverly, and turned to Felix. "Who are you, my latest competition? My goodness, you are in demand," he said turning back to Beverly, his voice laced with sarcasm.

She glared back at him angrily.

Felix faced him down. "I don't know who you are, sir, but you need to leave now."

Picard stood there for a moment more and flexed his right hand absently watching Felix. Felix tensed, as though he were expecting Picard to try and strike him.

Slowly, Picard relaxed. "You're right, I shouldn't be here," he said quietly, and with another look at Beverly, turned and left the lab.

* * *

Felix watched Beverly, as she stared into a microscope. He knew she was suffering, but wasn't quite sure how to help her. "We need more samples of this strain of retrovirus," she said flatly.

He nodded as she glanced up at him. "Okay," he said. "I will start growing some more then," he said moving back to his work station.

As the terminal he was using began to hum, he looked up at her again. "Are you alright?" he asked with concern.

"Yes," she said, not looking up from what she was doing.

"That guy…he was pretty intense."

"Mm hmm," she agreed, adjusting her goggles distractedly.

"Is he a friend of yours?"

Beverly exhaled, blowing a stray piece of hair from her forehead. "He used to be…yes, he was a great friend. A great person," she said trying with difficulty to concentrate on her work.

Felix looked quizzical. "But not now?"

"Things change…sometimes people change," she said as though stating a scientific fact.

"But—"

"Felix, I need a break," she said suddenly throwing her gloves down on the table. She ran her hands under the sonic wash and then she turned back to Felix, in an attempt to show him that she was okay. "I'll be back soon," she said and walked out of the lab.

Once in the main sick bay, she ducked into a storage room, and stood in the corner. Realizing that she still had her goggles on, she threw them angrily against the wall, and then covering her mouth with her hands she began to cry.

* * *

After Picard left Beverly, he decided to go back to visit the Borg prisoner. Maybe spending time with an emotionless being would clear him of all these wants and needs that had begun to plague him. He didn't know exactly what it was that he was feeling for Beverly suddenly, but it was quite strong.

Years of no contact with other humans had left him unsure of how to relate to them. And years of not using human feelings had left him similarly inept. He hesitated before entering the room that held the Borg enclosure. Perhaps he should return to Beverly and her co-worker and apologize to them. He struggled to remember.

Yes, that is what he would have done years ago, but then again, years ago he would never have tried to impose himself on her in that way. He decided against returning. She had seemed uninterested in talking to him. He flashed back to the dream, and what she had whispered to him. He knew it hadn't been real, but he knew what she was talking about. And he knew he did not want to face it.

The Klingon, Worf stood outside the Borg's room. Picard stopped to stand next to him. "You seem…different from the other humans," said Worf slowly. "They treat you as though you are a stranger to them."

Picard nodded. "I am," he said. He leaned against the clear partition that separated them from the Borg and looked at Worf. "I am surprised you feel the need to guard such a helpless being," he observed.

Worf stared at him. "Helpless? How? I do not trust it!"

Picard glanced in at the Borg. "So don't trust it then…that doesn't mean it's going to sprout wings and fly away, or do anything more dangerous than just stand there staring. That drone is helpless without its collective."

"You don't fear it like the other humans, then?"

"They fear what they don't understand," said Picard. "It's completely natural…totally human," he added.

"That implies that you _do_ understand it; which would make you a very _strange_ human," Worf said with some gravity.

"Thank you," said Picard sincerely. Moving away from Worf, he hit a button on the side of the door frame and the door to the room hissed open. As soon as the doors shut, the Borg lifted its head and he heard servo motors whirr to life, as he approached.

He stood there for a few moments, relaxed and watching the Borg. He began to circle it as he had done earlier that afternoon. "Jack is right. It would be so easy," he said, talking both to the Borg and himself. "So easy to get the information I wanted from you, or even better…to stop you and all of your kind from continuing to crawl across the galaxy in search of more people to kill, more homes to destroy, more cultures to assimilate."

"Assimilate," repeated the Borg, speaking with a voice of many.

"But," said Picard, halting before the Borg, "I could learn everything about you; where you can be found, where you intend to go next, and I can use this information to stop you. I have two chances left, you see."

" _Yes,_ " floated Q's voice. " _Go ahead Picard_ …what a wonderful idea. You only have two chances left to use your power. This _must_ be the right decision. Read his mind, Picard. It is all you need to do."

Trying to ignore Q, Picard hesitated and then reached out and touched his index finger to the forehead of the Borg, who did not move, except to fix its ocular implant on his face. Picard closed his eyes.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Beverly Crusher glanced around furtively before stepping out of the storage room. No one was around, and as she wiped beneath her eyes, she straightened her lab coat, and felt just a little bit closer to normal. No one had seen her duck into the room and, so she hadn't embarrassed herself. It wasn't like her to become so upset, but the past few days had sent her world, which was already a bit tumultuous, spinning out of her control.

All she had to do, to get through the rest of the work day, was to not think about Jean-Luc. That was it. She exhaled, smoothing her hair, and considered returning to her work, when something caught her eye. It was Commander Worf, from the Klingon ship. He was staring into the room that held the Borg and something caused her to approach.

She moved next to him quietly, following his gaze, and then froze. Jean-Luc was inside the room, and was staring into the face of the Borg, his face nearly touching the Borg's face. "What the hell is he doing?" she whispered, quickly. She considered running inside and grabbing him, but it occurred to her that he might actually know what he was doing; that his insane behavior might have some purpose.

"I do not know," said Worf gruffly, not realizing that she had mostly been talking to herself, when she'd asked the question. "He is…a very strange, human."

Beverly had no answer for that, so she and Worf continued to watch together as Picard began to pace around the Borg, and appeared to be talking to himself. Suddenly, he reached out very deliberately and put his index finger in the center of the Borg's forehead. He had an intense look of concentration on his face, and then closed his eyes. Beverly ran to the door without thinking. "Jean-Luc, no!" she shouted. Worf was close behind her, but she was through the door before he could stop her.

* * *

Once inside, her plan fell apart, because, she had no plan. She stopped just inside the door, and stared at Picard. He dropped his hand, and then turned slowly to look at her. "Why did you do that?" he asked, and there was a definite edge in his voice, but more than that, he was genuinely interested in knowing the answer to his question.

"Jean-Luc, I'm sorry, but I saw what you were going to do, and I had to stop you," she breathed.

He walked toward her. "What exactly did you think that I was going to do?" he asked shaking his head with a frown.

She backed up against the door. For the first time, she honestly wondered if he was capable of hurting her. She admitted it now…he was nearly a stranger. "You were going to use your powers on that Borg."

He walked closer. "Yes…I was. But, you stopped me. And I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. Someday, I may actually thank you for it."

"You were going to kill him," Beverly blurted out. She licked her lips nervously, and shrank back tighter against the door.

His expression changed suddenly as though she had slapped him in the face, and he took a step back. "And now I see. Now I see just how much you think I have changed, Beverly." He walked closer to her until he was close enough so that he could have kissed her.

She looked back at him without blinking as he spoke. "I wasn't going to kill the Borg drone." He looked at her for a response that would tell him she had never doubted him, but she had no such response for him.

"You don't believe me, do you?" She didn't answer. He gazed into her eyes, to try and ascertain if she believed him, but all he saw in her eyes, or all he thought he saw, was fear. Fear of him. He felt entirely blind without his power. He didn't know how to act—how to think properly without it, how to read the feelings of others. He hit the button next to the door, and left her alone in the room.

* * *

Q popped into the Borg's room just as Picard and the Crusher woman exited the room. He stayed invisible so that the tiny-brained Klingon would not notice his presence. What drama, what intrigue, he thought. Perhaps he should visit the world of humans more often. It was very fascinating to Q that in the space of a few days Picard was so quickly reverting to the tortured soul he had been when the Q first made him a proposition he could not refuse all those years ago.

He had already managed to alienate those he most loved, and he was losing the confidence of a Q. It seemed clear he would not be re-entering the Continuum any time soon. Q would miss Picard. The intellectual benefits Q had gained for having become interested in Picard all those years ago had multiplied over the years. He considered Picard his friend, although he might never admit such a sentiment.

Q regarded the Borg carefully. Picard had been thwarted by the Crusher woman in his attempt to read the collective minds through this Borg. But this Borg was on its way out of existence that much was clear. Perhaps the humans really did think that by introducing a virus through this Borg, they would make a difference in defending their way of life. He knew they were on their way to this very room right now, and the android would attempt a link-up. They believed that they would slow the Borg assault, but they were wrong. He knew for a fact that this Borg had already been cut off from the collective. All Borg lived to be part of the collective, therefore there was only one compassionate thing to do.

Yes, Q would act compassionately this time. He reached up and removed the green cortical node from its forehead, and after about five seconds, the Borg was reduced to a small pile of ash on the floor of the room. Q, still invisible, exited the room, as the Klingon stormed in, alarmed.

* * *

A little while later, Picard sat at the bar in Ten Forward drinking a cup of Earl Grey tea. He had recently remembered that it had been his favorite beverage before his turn with the Q. Somehow, the tea helped calm and focus his thoughts after the event with the Borg in sickbay. He had come very close to using his power, but now he saw that Beverly coming into the room when she had, had been the correct result. He was not meant to use his power in that way, at that time.

"Hello, friend," said Guinan, walking up to him. He nodded hello. "You've caused quite the stir on this ship during the last few days," she said with a kind smile.

Picard was too lost in thought to smile back at her. "So it seems," he said.

"So, have you made your decision yet?" she asked in a conspiratorial voice.

"Huh?" He thought back to their first meeting, just before things became so very complicated. "Ah…now I remember," he admitted. He scratched his head. "For now, my decision is to return to where I came from. Just not quite yet…" he added.

Guinan frowned. "Well, if you've already decided to leave, then what are you waiting for? Get out of here," she laughed.

He sipped his tea thoughtfully. "No. I think I will try to help out a bit with this Borg problem, before I leave. I know things… things that could help the people on this ship. And maybe Jack will calm down…."

"Well…" her expression darkened. "So you know things that could help us fight the Borg, but you're still in sort of a rush to leave. Must be a wonderful place you're returning to. And, I'm guessing it is safe from the Borg."

He frowned. "Of course it is safe from the Borg."

She watched him knowingly. "I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you. You see, most of my family and nearly all of my people were wiped out by the Borg. And we didn't see a thing coming until it was too late."

Picard nearly dropped his teacup on the bar, but steadied it quickly with his hand. _"What?"_

"Easy," said Guinan in a low voice. "Picard, I'm over 600 years old. I'm guessing you were younger than that when you were taken by the Q. So don't worry—I'm not blaming you for not saving my planet; it was all long before your time."

His eyes narrowed. "How did you know I was with the Q?"

"Word gets around, Picard. And let's just say I am familiar with the Q."

"And so let me guess, you are going to try and convince me to stay here. That would be your role as the wise and well-meaning bartender, right?"

She grinned fully now. "Clichés aside, Picard…I shouldn't need to convince you to stay. Look around you, and I am sure you will see at least one reason."

At that moment, he looked behind him and quickly scanned the room. "I don't see anything—." He turned back around to find that Guinan was no longer there.

* * *

Sighing, he turned back around and scanned the room more slowly. This time, his eyes fell on Wesley Crusher who was seated at a table near the viewport, and was involved in a heated argument with a pretty young woman. Abruptly, she slammed whatever she had been drinking down on the table and got up to leave.

Picard raised an eyebrow, and tried to watch the teenager as subtly as possible, which was difficult since all of Ten Forward seemed to be staring at Wesley. Wesley for his part, had dropped his forehead into the palms of his hands and was staring at the table. It was not lost on Picard that he himself sometimes adopted a similar stance when frustrated.

For some reason, Picard got up and walked over to the boy. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked. Wesley's head jerked up and looked up at Picard with surprise.

"Um…sure, I guess. I mean, no, I don't mind," rambled Wesley, sitting up straighter.

"Do you mind if I ask you what just happened with your girlfriend?"

"Oh, she's not my girlfriend. I mean she dumped me a while ago, so I guess she's not anymore… right?" He seemed unsure, and Picard considered that because the boy's question made no sense, he shouldn't have to answer it. But he still attempted one.

"If she is no longer your girlfriend, why is she throwing her glass down on your table? That seems awfully dramatic," Picard observed. Wesley stared at him wide-eyed. "In fact," said Picard, "I would wager that she still has feelings for you if she feels you warrant such a display."

Wesley smiled slightly. "You think?"

Picard nodded. "I don't know what good it does you, but yes." He flagged a waiter down. "Could you bring two root beer floats?"

Wesley smiled wider. "Thanks," he said.

"Oh, you would like one too?" Picard asked, and then waved the waiter back. "Make that three root beer floats, please." The waiter quickly returned with the three drinks and carefully placed them down between Wesley and Picard.

Wesley laughed. "All these years of staring at your holo image, and I never thought of you as someone who would be into ice cream drinks."

Picard smiled. "It just goes to show, there is more to a holo than meets the eye…." He raised one of his glasses to a toast with Wesley.

Wesley sipped the drink and then cleared his throat, as his nervousness returned. "Yesterday when I said you were less of a person…I don't know where that came from."

Picard sucked through his straw noisily. "From where I sat, it appeared to come from a very honest place, Wesley. There is no need to apologize." He proceeded to emit such a loud burp that the woman at an adjacent table got up and left.

Wesley glanced around them, and then returned to the safety of his straw. "What happened to you, anyway? I mean where did you go?"

Picard's expression darkened. "Didn't your mother and father tell you?"

"Mom said you were with an advanced race of beings, and Dad said he didn't trust you to be alone with me. That's pretty much it so far," said Wesley.

"Beverly is right. I was taken by the Q, a very advanced race of beings, neither energy nor substance. They exist on multiple planes, in multiple phases of existence, and they have great knowledge and power."

"So you admire them, even though they forced you to come with them?"

"It's not that simple," said Picard. "I was given a choice to make. For me, the only decision was to go with them. And once I was with them for a long time, I became rather accustomed to them."

"So you don't regret going with them? Even though you missed my whole childhood?" There was no obvious resentment in Wesley's tone, but he was curious.

Picard fell silent, and poked at his ice cream soda with a spoon. "There are many things I regret Wesley. But, although it may be hard for you to understand, I have always tried to make the choices that I believed were right for me and the people I cared about. But, I am now learning that some of my prior choices were incorrect…."

Wesley remained silent. He considered ordering a second root beer float, but then decided to leave on a relative high note. "I have to get going, but thanks for coming over to talk to me," said Wesley, getting up from his seat.

He tried to adopt a confident tone. He thought maybe his father would appreciate confidence rather than what his mom sometimes referred to as Wesley's "sensitive nature". His mom had always told him how stoic his father was, and how it was always difficult to know what he was thinking or feeling. At this moment, he understood what she had meant, because his father simply shrugged and looked up at Wesley.

"Maybe I will try and talk to Anna again later…I mean in case you're right and she still likes me," Wesley said in a hopeful but uncertain tone.

It was clear that Wesley was seeking further reassurance, but as Picard looked at him, he suddenly questioned why he had given the boy advice at all. What on earth did he know about women, either before or after he had been taken by the Q? And he had never been good with children, much less adolescents. This did not change the fact that he liked Wesley, and always had. Still, he had to be careful about becoming any more invested in the boy than he had been before Beverly announced that he was Wesley's father.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, contemplating the best way to retreat from this situation without making it worse. "Wesley…maybe you should ask your mother, or ask your father—yes, ask Jack for advice. I'm really not a very good person to ask," he said, trying to let some kindness seep into his words.

Wesley smoothed his sweater out, and dropped his hands to his sides and looked at Picard. "What do you mean?" he asked, squinting as though Picard were almost too far away to see. "You're my father. I mean, I already have a dad…I'm not trying to impose on you or anything. But I just thought…."

 _Don't hurt my son, Jean-Luc,_ floated through his head. He honestly did not know if he was able to even recognize if he was hurting Wesley or anyone else for that matter.

"Wesley…I am sorry," he said as sincerely as possible. "But I'm not the kind of person you need in your life. As you said, you already have a dad. Jack is a better father than I could be. I am not used to spending time with human beings…as you can see I don't know even know how to say the right thing. I don't want you to be disappointed further by expecting something from me that I am not able to give." Part of him wanted to stand up, to touch Wesley for the first time, but he continued to sit still, watching the boy.

Wesley backed away from the table. "You don't have to be sorry…I get it. See you around," he said, turning and walking away. His posture, which had been confident just a few moments earlier, was now deflated, and he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets as he walked away.

* * *

From across the room, Picard's gaze caught Guinan's and she slowly shook her head, before turning back to her customer.

Was he the father? Perhaps he was. But the biological reality did not make him capable of being the kind of father that Wesley needed. Beverly must have been scared to death to even contemplate raising a child with him. But that was the least of it, because even when she had apparently made the decision to raise Wesley with Jack, she had kept it from him, hadn't even given him the option of being in Wesley's life. How long had Jack known, he wondered? How had he reacted in learning that Wesley was not his own? Obviously Jack had adjusted and come to terms with it.

In actuality Jack had been Wesley's father in every possible way, whereas Picard had only been absent. How could he ever possibly make up for all of that time lost? And in the state he was in, he was hardly a role model for any young person. What could he possibly have to offer that Jack hadn't offered Wesley already?

When he had told Wesley he had made incorrect choices, he wasn't admitting that he had made any choices with respect to Wesley. That would have been difficult to manage, since he hadn't ever really believed Wesley was his son before he went to the Q. But he was beginning to see that the stilted, career-focused, and emotionally distant way he had lived before the Q had allowed him to avoid the ties that his friends had longed to have with him.

* * *

He heard quick footsteps, and glanced up to find Yar and two security officers with her. He wasn't done contemplating his life, so he returned to absently stirring his ice cream drink.

Without warning, Yar snatched his glass away from him and put it on a nearby table.

"Get up, you son of a bitch," she demanded.

He recalled that Riker had said this woman was attracted to him. It had been a long time since he had been required to recognize lust, but she didn't appear to be too enamored with him at the moment. But that was alright, because he didn't like her much either.

He stood up slowly and continued to watch her, his gaze growing dark as he contemplated using his power to send her flying through the bulkhead out into space. He closed his eyes and tried to control his temper. Opening his eyes again he asked, "What is it, Yar?" as serenely as possible.

"You killed the Borg prisoner," she shouted at him. Ten Forward had quieted down completely. Guinan had stepped out from behind the bar to take in the scene.

"No," he said. "I certainly did not."

"Come with me then, and we'll discuss this up on the bridge. Captain Crusher is waiting, and the Klingons are already demanding payback for what you did."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

When Yar and the guards marched Picard into the bridge conference room, Jack, Riker and Worf were arguing about something, probably him, and Beverly and Walker sat together at the table, speaking softly. All eyes turned to regard him as he walked in.

"Well?" He demanded. "What am I being accused of, Jack? Out with it."

Jack was livid. "Jean-Luc, what were you _thinking_? You killed the Borg, didn't you?"

He stepped around Jack and locked eyes with Beverly, who grabbed Walker's hand, but didn't look away from him.

Jack moved quickly and grabbed his bicep. "Stay away from her," Jack warned him. "She and Commander Worf witnessed you doing…doing something to the Borg, and after you left, it dissolved into a pile of _ash_ , Jean-Luc. What are you? What have you become?"

Picard jerked his arm out of Jack's grip, and walked over to face the wall, putting a hand over his eyes to try and calm himself again. "I didn't intend to kill the Borg, and I am telling you I did not harm it," he said in a low voice, not turning around.

"Jean-Luc, this is all that's left of it," said Walker quietly, shoving a metal container across the table. "Tell us what happened."

Picard still refused to turn around. "Beverly, tell them I didn't do anything wrong, that I wouldn't do such a thing," he said quietly.

Jack put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Speak for yourself and leave her out of this Jean-Luc," he snapped. Picard ducked from under his hand quickly and turned around to face Jack.

"You want to be her protector, Jack? Well, you can protect her from me, but protecting Beverly and everyone else from the Borg is another story. I spent thirteen hours writing a goddamn report for you people to try and help you, and this supposed to be my thank you? Now, I told you I didn't do it, and if you don't believe me, you can go to hell."

Riker stepped toward him. "Captain Picard…look, I believe you. But if you didn't do anything to the Borg, then who did? You're not giving us a lot to go on here."

Picard stared at Riker for a moment, now acknowledging that he really did like the man. He walked to the viewport and all eyes followed him. As something occurred to him he began to laugh deeply.

"What the hell is so funny?" demanded Yar.

"It was Q." He laughed again, and then turned to regard everyone. "I _was_ going to use my power, I admit that. But not to kill it. I wanted to find out the intent of the Borg collective —by reading the drone's mind."

"Did you?" asked Yar.

He shook his head. "No," he turned back to look at Beverly. He smiled at her, but she looked away. "No, I wasn't able to."

"What do you mean you weren't able to?" said Yar. "Do you have unlimited power or not?"

He shook his head with a wistful smile. "It wasn't the right time," he said.

"It was my fault," Beverly interjected. "I stopped him. I should have trusted that he didn't intend to hurt the Borg."

"No, Bev, you had no reason to trust him—"

"Jack, don't tell me what I had reason to do…and do you hear what you are saying?" Beverly stared at him. "He's _still_ Jean-Luc…." She looked at Picard searchingly, hoping to confirm her assertion. But he wasn't looking at her any longer, and had resumed his gaze out the window.

"Q…" he whispered. What did it all mean?

"What did you mean, when you said 'it was Q' who killed the Borg, Jean-Luc?" Walker asked, getting to his feet.

"Q…he's toying with me."

"Q is a he?" Riker asked. "I thought the Q were a…they?

"Q is a they and a we…."

"I see," said Riker, even though he really didn't.

"The Q are the Q," continued Picard cryptically. "But some Q are really more Q than others…."

"Okay…." Riker looked at Jack. "You're up again," he murmured, walking away.

"I can't believe I'm even understanding this, but I think he's saying there was a particular Q who who killed the Borg," said Yar. Her tone had changed from accusatory to fascinated.

"Q wants me to use my powers at the wrong time…he wants to beat me." He clenched his fist as he continued to stare out the window.

"I don't understand," said Jack. "If you have the power to stop the Borg, why don't you do it, Jean-Luc? You could save us all."

Picard turned and looked at Jack. "It's not that simple, Jack."

"Why not? Enlighten us all. If you have the power to do something good, then _use it_! Jean-Luc, the old you would have just done the right thing."

Picard shrugged and sat down at the table, next to Beverly. "As you seem to enjoy pointing out, Jack, I'm not the same person I used to be."

Jack shook his head, and moved away from him. "I'll be on the bridge," he said and then walked out of the room. Walker followed him, and then Riker and Worf walked out as well.

Yar approached Picard and leaned over him. She ignored Beverly who watched her with open distrust. "Leave the door to your quarters unlocked," Yar said in his ear.

"Why, so you can arrest me again?"

She put a hand on the back of his neck. "That part of the game is over...let's say I have some business to share with you later." She gave him a meaningful look and then left the room.

"I just can't imagine what kind of _business_ she wants to share with you," Beverly said coldly, watching Yar exit as the doors shut.

"According to Riker she probably just wants to have sex with me," he said with a shrug.

Beverly laughed, but it was strictly defensive and held no humor. "Well, you sound very casual about it," she observed.

"I am," he admitted.

She looked at him. "I see. And if someone really wanted you…because they cared about you, not just for business…how would you react then? Or is it all the same to you now?"

"Are you speaking hypothetically Beverly, or are you propositioning me?" he asked softly. Leaning in, he took her hand and gazed into her eyes.

"You have a lot to learn about me, if you think I'm going to play your cruel little game, Jean-Luc." She took her hand from his and stood up. "Maybe you and Yar deserve each other."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Seriously, he had no idea.

"I have no interest in explaining it to you, if you don't get it," she snapped, turning to go. "Go ahead and enjoy your _business_ with Yar."

He got to his feet, as she was leaving. "Oh, so I have your permission, do I?" he asked after her.

"Yes," she said, walking out the door.

* * *

Beverly was up late working in her lab. She hadn't felt this lonely since her parents had died many years ago. She wasn't alone, that much was clear. She had Wesley, she had Walker and even though Jack had been angry with her, she had Jack. But she didn't have Jean-Luc anymore. True, up until a few days ago she hadn't had anything but memories of Jean-Luc. But now that he was back, he was a different person than he had been. He was different in all the aspects of his personality that had been important to her before his capture. His intelligence had turned to condescension, his pride to arrogance. His former stoicism was now a vast alien expanse of indifference; and he was too distant for her to reach him safely. The truth was he had shown no signs that he wanted to be reached.

And so that was how she had allowed it to happen. She had been too lonely to care enough to stop it. She stood working with her back to the lab door when Felix entered. "Beverly it's one in the morning," he said. "We don't need to finish everything this first week," he laughed lightly. She didn't answer, so he walked closer. The gene replicators were humming and maybe she didn't hear him.

"Beverly," he said, when he was standing directly behind her. She turned around to face him then and there was very little room between them. Beverly looked up at him and he thought he saw a longing in her eyes for something he hoped he could provide. She had been acting strangely since her aggressive visitor had showed up earlier and he could not help but wonder if she was thinking about the man in that moment, but he tried to put it out of his mind.

He inched closer to her. "Beverly, I'm worried about you. Ever since your…old friend came by the lab earlier you haven't been yourself."

"I don't want to talk about him," she said, looking at his chest, not into his eyes.

"Okay," he agreed softly. She reached out to touch him lightly, and her eyes had a faraway expression. "Can I kiss you?" he asked. She didn't answer, but she didn't resist either when he leaned in to kiss her.

* * *

 _Picard hung suspended in the white light. His back was arched and his head was thrown back in an unnatural posture, staring vacantly upward._

 _"_ _We have been interested in your friend for many years," the voices said. "We have no intention of hurting you, Jack Crusher, but we must have your friend."_

 _"_ _No," sobbed Jack. "Let him go…what are you doing to him?"_

 _"_ _He will come with us and we will study him. If we learn about human beings from him, that will be of benefit to both of our species."_

 _"_ _No!" Jack refused._

 _"_ _We do not require your permission, but we are asking it, Jack Crusher," said the voices in the light. "Your cooperation will make it easier for us; make it easier for him to understand."_

 _"_ _What if I don't allow you to take him? What if I try to stop you?"_

 _"_ _Then we will take his child. His child is similar enough to him, and we can study him very easily. We know where the child is, and it will be simple to take him instead."_

 _"_ _No, oh my god, do not touch my son!" Jack screamed up at them._

 _"_ _Very well…then you will release Picard to us?"_

 _Jack fell to his knees. "When…when will you bring him back?"_

 _"_ _He will never return to your kind, Jack Crusher. He will be with us from now on." The light formed a thin tendril and snaked toward him until it touched his forehead, and a cool sensation entered his brain drifting him into unconsciousness. When he awoke, Picard was gone._

* * *

"No!" Jack sat up in bed shouting. He'd just remembered something buried for years in a secret place in his brain. He had always believed that Jean-Luc had been killed that day. He touched his forehead gingerly, and wondered for the first time whether the Q had put a false memory in his head. Had he really seen Picard killed, or had the Q revealed their purpose to him all those years ago? He would never have let Picard go, but they had threatened to take Wesley instead. He could never have allowed that to happen. Did Jean-Luc know Jack had been faced with an impossible choice and had chosen Wesley over him? Is that why he had treated Jack with such contempt since returning to them?

He lay back in bed, and stared into the darkness. He heard soft footsteps, and started, still shaken from his dream. "Who's there?" he demanded.

"It's just me," he heard Beverly's voice say softly. Almost disbelievingly, he watched as she undressed quickly in the dark. She slipped in beside him, and he didn't ask any questions, when she began to touch him without saying another word, because he realized then how he had missed her so badly.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

* * *

 _"_ _Jack's coming back tomorrow," he said absently, looking down at her hand clasped in his. They sat with their backs propped up against a tree in the park, as the sun began to sink behind the hills in the distance. It glinted off the skyscrapers in a way that made the end to their few weeks together seem even more dramatic, even more dreamlike._

 _She could have pulled her hand away at that moment, but instead she held his tighter. "Jean-Luc, you don't have to remind me. I know he's coming back," she said quietly. "I know that," she repeated, looking down at their hands._

 _"_ _Are you going to forget about all of this?" He asked, refusing to look directly at her._

 _"_ _Of course not, how could I?" she looked sideways at him and then turned to look at him directly. As he stared straight ahead off into the distance, she carefully memorized his distinct profile in the dying daylight. She doubted that she would ever again have the opportunity to gaze at him in this way. Did she love him? Was it possible to love two people at once? She didn't know._

 _"_ _I promise that I will forgive you if you do, Beverly," he said, turning to look at her. "If you need to forget about the last two weeks in order to stay with Jack, I won't hold it against you."_

 _She gripped his hand and shook her head. "Jean-Luc, after all we have gone through… I have to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth."_

 _"_ _Alright," he agreed, holding her gaze._

 _"_ _If I were to…to leave Jack, would you ever be able to make a place for me in your life?"_

 _He blinked, shocked at what he had just heard. He hadn't considered that she would ever want to leave Jack, and he certainly would not ask her to. "I would never ask you to do that, Beverly. Neither one of us, wants to hurt Jack."_

 _"_ _You didn't answer my question," she said, her eyes intense with feeling. "Jack always says—well he says all you care about is your career…." She watched him closely. "And Walker says that Starfleet was your first love."_

 _"_ _Perhaps they're both right. But perhaps I have never had anything or anyone else to care about…before you."_

 _She paused, surprised to hear him say something so revealing. "But you don't want a family, do you?"_

 _"_ _I don't know. I hadn't thought about it until now."_

 _She finally pulled her hand away from his, and turned away from him and looked out at the sunset. They were quiet for a few more moments, as the emotional distance between them grew. "Tomorrow we have to act as though nothing has happened between us."_

 _"_ _I'll leave the city for a few days. I can even stay away until we return to the Stargazer," he offered._

 _She sighed and turned her head to look at him again. He always had the right answer. What was she supposed to do, tell him not to leave? Of course, what he said made sense but it didn't make either of them feel better. "Jean-Luc, I won't ask you to feel alright about this whole situation, but…I don't want you to hate me."_

 _"_ _How could I?" he asked, staring at her. "I love you," he said._

 _She shook her head, and shut her eyes tight. "No, you don't, Jean-Luc. Please don't say that." She pulled a blanket around her shoulders, shivering, as the breeze pushed toward them through the grass._

 _He pushed himself to his feet. "If I want to love you, I will," he said stubbornly. "I do have these feelings, and not even Jack coming back can change them."_

 _As he stood above her, she felt the strange power he had over her return. She reached her hands up to him. "I need you," she pleaded, and when he grasped her hands, she pulled him down to be with her one last time._

* * *

Beverly fell in and out of sleep restlessly, as Jack slept more deeply at her side. She knew she would not be able to sleep through the night. And then with this realization she was suddenly wide awake and alert. Mortified even in the darkness with no one looking at her or judging her, she clapped her hands over her eyes. Why had she come here tonight? Why had she kissed Felix? She knew the answer to these questions lay inside of her heart and in her head.

* * *

Beverly sat in the dark on the edge of Wesley's bed and stroked his hair while he slept. When he was upset as a child she would do it to calm him down and comfort him. As he grew older, he was more reluctant to allow her to do this, except when he was very tired and they were talking before bed. Perhaps Wesley knew it served to comfort her as much as it did him, so he allowed this practice to continue even into his now easily embarrassed teenage years.

Rubbing between his shoulder blades, she leaned down and kissed his forehead, before standing up. He'd said to her earlier that evening that he had talked to Jean-Luc in Ten Forward and that the conversation had been "okay", but she knew there was more to it, more she hoped he would eventually tell her.

Walking out of Wesley's room quietly, she froze when she saw Jack standing in the living room. He was wearing a bathrobe and turned slowly to face her. He held a bundle in his arms. "That was nice," he said looking at her. In the dim starlight there were bags under his eyes and for the first time, he looked like he was getting old. "Almost as good as it used to be...I'll admit it was a surprise that you came over, but I'm glad you did."

She tightened her robe around her and forced a smile, because she couldn't honestly return the same sentiment. "I have to go now, Jack," she said, moving past him.

He shifted his feet, and adjusted the bundle under his arm, which she now recognized as her clothes. "Oh, I know you do," he said, his tone lighter than it should have been. "But just do me one favor before you leave and tell me the truth."

Her skin went cold.

"Were you thinking about him the whole time?"

"Jack…what are you talking about?"

"I want to know, Bev," he demanded. "Like I said, I appreciate any bit of attention you can spare, even if it was out of pity…."

"Come on, Jack."

"But I'd appreciate some honesty even more—"

"Yes," she admitted. "Yes, I was thinking about him."

"Good," he said emphatically. "Now I know right where I stand," he said. "Here," he said, tossing her clothes to her. "Have a great night," he said, turning around and walking out of the room.

* * *

In her bathrobe and still clutching her clothes, Beverly rounded the corner to the corridor where her quarters were situated, and stopped in mid-step. Jean-Luc stood motionless outside of her door, facing in the opposite direction. His head was bowed as if he were contemplating something. Then, slowly he raised his head and walked away.

* * *

Yar hit the button next to the door to Picard's quarters, and to her happy surprise it slid open with a swish. She smiled. He had listened to her and left his quarters unlocked. She glanced around his quarters…rather messy. She shrugged. Apparently a person with god-like powers had other things to worry about than cleaning up after himself.

"Hello?" she called out, after she had finished snooping around his living room. His quarters were silent. It appeared he wasn't home after all. As she glanced around, her eyes fell on a small folded piece of paper on a low coffee table. Curious, she walked over, and picked it up. She opened it up, and read the script on the inside.

 _Mr. Riker seems to think you have an interest in me...however I know what it is you_ _really_ _want. Sadly-for you, I am not going to bestow the power of the Q upon you. Please forgive the archaic paper note, but I thought it appropriate now that you have been relegated to playing the part of my jilted lover_.

- _-JLP_

Yar crumpled up the piece of paper angrily in her fist and threw it across the room.

* * *

Picard sat at the bar in Ten Forward. It was after 0300 in the morning. Somewhere a long time ago, he recalled someone telling him warm milk helped one to sleep. He wasn't sure he wanted to sleep, but the idea of comfort was quite nice. Guinan seemed to study him as she slid the mug slowly in his direction.

He fit his hands around the warm cup and smiled down at the bar. "Did you know that you are my only friend on board this ship?"

Guinan raised what would have been an eyebrow if she'd had any. "Well...I'm touched Picard. I've never been friends with a Q before. But, what about your old friends? What about Riker?"

He shrugged. "Maybe Riker, but he's now back on board the _Hood_ after all."  
"As far as the others, my old friends as you say- they seem more interested in the way I used to be. They actually seem to be waiting for me to revert to my old self...I don't suppose I can blame them."

"And are you going to?"

He looked up. "Hmm?"

"Are you going to change back to your old self?"

He straightened. "Why should I?"

She smiled. "Oh...well I suppose it is only important if you plan on staying with us. And you don't do you?"

"Stay here as what? A starship Captain?" he scoffed.

"Isn't that technically still your title?"

"A very minor technicality," he said.

"So you don't miss it? Being a ship's Captain, that is."

His smile faded quickly and he looked away. "I don't think I want to talk about that right now," he said.

She didn't seem surprised by that and changed the subject. "So, where is this ship headed next?"

"To Marca II, a human colony along the Federation/ Klingon border," he said sipping his warm milk. "It's a joint mission with the Hood, and for some reason, the Klingon bird of prey has decided to follow us—they say to provide support in case there are living Borg down on Marca II. But in any case, it's more than likely they are still upset about the Borg drone, and are eager for restitution. So…that is where we are headed."

"And what exactly can we expect to find there?" asked Guinan, wiping a glass carefully as she watched him.

Picard shifted his gaze to meet hers. "Traces of the Borg. Namely, death…and missing colonists." He shut his eyes briefly and an image came to mind. It was unexpected, and unpleasant, so he opened his eyes again.

"You sound…and look as though you've seen it before, Picard," she said quietly.

"I have," he admitted, looking away from her again. He finished his milk. "Funny, that I became used to seeing it, in fact after the first few years I became quite removed from it. But now…I admit I am reticent about going down to that planet."

"Have you thought about talking to anyone about these feelings?"

Another image flashed in his mind. Two greenish orbs, fixated on him. He shook it off, the image faded again, and he looked at her resolutely. "No."

"Do you _want_ to talk to anyone about them?"

"No." He gripped his mug tighter.

"Why not?"

He stood up suddenly and slammed the mug down on the bar, smashing it into pieces. "I'm talking to _you_ , aren't I? What do I have to do to get through to you that _I do not care_?" he shouted.

He unclenched his trembling fist to find his palm covered in blood. "Damn, this weak body," he whispered angrily, he pressed his hand into his shirt, which quickly became stained red.

Wordlessly she tossed him a towel, and he wrapped it tightly around his hand and wrist. Within seconds it was soaked in blood. She pointed at it. "Isn't that the hand you…?"

"Yes," he hissed angrily. "This is the hand I broke on Riker's face, and now it is also the hand that I have cut open like a goddamn idiot."

"Better keep that elevated," she suggested helpfully.

He shot her a look and then leaned against the bar, feeling a little woozy. "I can't go to sick bay. That blasted Doctor LaForge will hear about it tomorrow and give me an earful."

"I don't suppose there is anyone else you could go see. Maybe someone you know who's a doctor?"

He turned to look at her with a deadly stare. "Why do I feel as though I have just been set up? And earlier when Wesley was here, was that a set-up too? Who is supposed to have the special powers here?"

She shook her head slowly. "Picard, _you_ are the one who just cut open your own hand, and _you_ are the one who fathered a child who wants your affection. It's just a coincidence I suppose that the mother of your child is also a doctor, which I have to say, right now seems awfully convenient for you."

"Convenient is not the word I would choose to describe anything right now," he replied, as he turned to walk out.

Then slowly, as though something just occurred to him, he turned back around. "Come with me?" Picard held his bloody hand tight against his upper chest.

Guinan was skeptical. "You need a chaperone?"

"Beverly doesn't trust me...she may even be afraid of me, given the way Jack has been speaking ill of me ever since I arrived," he said.

"And I'm sure your own actions haven't aided in her developing a negative impression of you," she said.

He made a face, but knew she was right. "It's true that my ability to judge human behavior and certain social cues has suffered greatly due to my time away in the Continuum."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," said Guinan feigning shock.

He seemed to miss her sarcasm, proving his own point. "And…" he admitted, "Over the last few days I have had very…strong feelings when I see Beverly. It is almost as if I have difficulty thinking and even worse, I tend to say the wrong things, which tends to make her angry…."

"Sounds like you have a problem," said Guinan casually, as she carefully wiped down the same area of the bar for the third time.

He glared at her. "Are you coming with me or not?"

Guinan smiled slightly and came around the bar. "And what exactly do you expect me to do if I accompany you, Picard?" She inquired, folding her hands carefully in front of her waist.

He hesitated, not quite sure, himself. "Just... make sure I don't say or do anything offensive."

"That seems like a lot to ask," she murmured. "Okay, I'll do it," she agreed.

* * *

It was only three thirty in the morning, but Beverly was wide awake, already showered and dressed. How could she sleep after what had happened with Jack? She figured she might as well go to work. Work…. At least it was so early that Felix would not yet be there. A memory of her kissing Felix entered her mind and she mentally both cringed and marveled at her behavior during the previous four hours. Was she so desperate for intimacy?

It wasn't that she didn't find Felix attractive, but she had already pushed him away when they first arrived on board. And now she had led him to think she was really interested in him when she recognized now that she was not. She'd done the same or worse with Jack, but he had somehow figured out that she was trying to fulfill a need that Jack could not. She tried not to think about what she must have done, or said to make him think she was thinking of Jean-Luc. She shook her head, to clear the images from her mind.

She was pulling on her lab coat when the door chimed. "Damn," she said under her breath. Who could possibly be outside her door at 4 in the morning? She walked toward the door but then froze halfway there, recalling that on her way back from Jack's she had seen Jean-Luc standing mysteriously outside of her door. Had he now returned?

She had no clear idea of what he wanted, and not only did she not trust him completely, she didn't' trust herself to be alone with him either. Gathering up her courage she opened the door.

"Hello Doctor," said Guinan, who stood in front of Picard, partially blocking her view of him.

Beverly did not try to hide her surprise. "Hello," she said, puzzled.

"Mr. Picard here is in need of medical attention," continued Guinan, gesturing behind her.

Beverly leaned back against the doorframe, feeling somewhat safer that Guinan was here and actually serving a physical barrier between her and Jean-Luc. "Well, is there some reason why _Mr._ Picard didn't report to sickbay then, instead of coming to my door at 4 AM?"

Making an annoyed face, Guinan reached in back of her and pushed Picard forward. He silently held up his right hand, which was covered by a bloody towel.

Beverly was suddenly all business. "Okay, come in," she said quickly, hurrying them inside. "Sit down," she said sternly, when he simply stood there gazing around. He complied, sitting down in a nearby chair. She unwrapped the towel, and quickly examined the wound on his palm. "Not good," she said quietly to herself. She grabbed her med kit, and opened it up.

As she began to clean the wound, she struggled to remain objective and not get angry. "I'm not sure I want to know, but what did you do to your hand?" she asked, swabbing it carefully.

Picard winced. "I cut it," he said simply.

Beverly raised her gaze to his icily. "Really….so did things get a bit wild with Yar?"

Picard glanced up at Guinan, who shook her head, looking at him. "No," he said, trying to properly read her non-verbal advice.

Beverly reached over to grab a sterilizing spray. "'No', meaning things weren't wild, or 'no', nothing happened?" She sprayed it directly onto the laceration in his palm.

"Ow!" he said, pulling his hand away.

She grabbed his hand again and turned it so that his palm was facing up. "Did you sleep with her?" she asked, now working on his hand with the derma repair tool.

Picard looked at Guinan again, who looked at him incredulously, and silently mouthed _"Well did you?"_

Picard looked at Beverly. "No," he said.

Her expression seemed to relax to a degree. "Your shirt is covered in blood," she observed.

He looked at Guinan, who made an ambiguous gesture with her hand. "I can take it off," he said, starting to pull it up over his head.

"No," Beverly said, quickly grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it back down. "Not necessary, Jean-Luc," she said, with an exasperated sigh. She finished repairing the cuts in his hand, and then covered his hand with a regeneration aid. Sitting back, she said, "now what did you do to your hand?"

"I…Guinan asked me a question, and I…didn't want to answer it, so…I broke my glass," he admitted.

Beverly stared at him in open astonishment. He was clearly struggling with basic self-control. "I see…well, I think it will be alright. Just take it easy with your hand for another twelve hours, and it should heal properly." She patted him on the knee and stood up. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go to work now."

Picard crinkled his brow at that. "Seems a bit _early_ for work, doesn't it?"

She turned back to him with her hands on her hips and laughed at the ridiculousness of his comment. "Suddenly you're concerned about the time?"

Picard stood up and shrugged. "I suppose you have a point. Now I must be going. Thank you for your assistance, Doctor," he said, and nodded for Guinan to follow him. Beverly watched, still baffled, as they left her quarters.

* * *

 _ **Seven hours later in orbit around Marca II…**_

 _Captain's Log: Stardate 42532.3_

 _I have assembled two away teams from the Enterprise and USS Hood to beam down to the surface of Marca II, a Federation colony which was recently attacked by Borg forces. Per order from Admiral Nechayev, Agent Yar is commanding both teams. However, I have informed my First Officer Commander Data that he is ultimately responsible for the safety of the Enterprise crew. Although I have been hesitant to involve Captain Picard, who continues to claim to have the powers of a Q entity, Yar has insisted he continue to serve as a consultant on this project, and as such, he will accompany the science and medical teams to the surface. Meanwhile, as a concession to the Klingon's Borg prisoner expiring aboard the Enterprise, we have allowed the crew of the Batleh to send a small team down to our colony as well._

Captain Jack Crusher sat back in his command chair and inhaled deeply. He was uncertain about what would be discovered down on the planet, and was even more uncertain about Yar's insistence on bringing Picard with them. Nevertheless, there was little he could do, as the orders were coming from on high.

* * *

"As agreed, we'll take the two teams down and make a sweep of the colony. Any survivors will be beamed to the _Enterprise_ sick bay, since it has greater capacity than that of the _Hood_ ," said Yar. "That said, we're not expecting many survivors, so let's not get our hopes up. Our job is to gather information and any Borg technology left behind. Any clues as to why the Borg attacked this colony may be helpful to predict the next attack."

"And hopefully to prevent it," Walker added.

"LaForge?" said Yar.

"Yes?" Geordi and Dr. Mark LaForge replied simultaneously and both turned from their quiet conversation to regard her.

Yar looked annoyed. "Geordi…we'll need you to pick up any radiation signatures similar to those the _Hood's_ team discovered on Delvora."

Geordi raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? A tricorder can do that," he said, slightly insulted.

Yar fixed him with a pointed look. "We need your eyes down there, LaForge," she said.

"His _Visor_ ," interrupted Dr. LaForge, protectively. "Just to clarify, you're using my husband for his Visor, not his eyes, which are non-functional—as should be clear even to you."

Yar looked as though she was considering using her pistol but thankfully she settled for staring unkindly at the doctor.

"Do you expect any Borg soldiers to be left?" asked Beverly. Her hand brushed the phaser at her waist, and she very much wished she would not have to use it.

Walker nodded at her. "According to the Klingons we can expect a few to have been left behind by the Borg ships, but whether they will be alive or not, we can't predict."

"Captain Riker is signaling us that his team is ready to transport down to the planet," Data said. "Further delay is not desirable," he said as he stepped up on to the transporter platform.

"Yeah, what are we waiting for?" asked Geordi.

"Picard…" said Yar, beginning to sound somewhat dangerous. Beverly eyed her with some suspicion. What was she up to, Beverly wondered? What was her interest in Picard...

It was at that moment that Picard strolled in to the transporter room leisurely eating a candy bar. Without a word to anyone, he silently took his place next to Data on the transporter pad. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he had been keeping everyone waiting, even as Yar stared daggers at him. "Nice touch with the handwritten note," she snapped as she stepped up beside him.

"I thought you might appreciate that," he said through a mouthful of chocolate and peanuts as the transporter was activated, and they were beamed away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

 **Trans warp Conduit Somewhere in Klingon space**

Seth sat up in the dark. A week ago he had turned ten, and it had been a great birthday party. All of his friends had been there, and they had run and played games until it grew dark. When the evening came, they had chased dragon bugs, their iridescent tails whipping through the night.

All Seth knew was Marca II. Wonderful Marca II. Marca I hadn't worked out too well for earlier colonists, due to the droughts, and so for the past ten years his colony had made their home on Marca II. His mother never discussed the past, her life before him—before the colony; always telling him that the most important thing was to move forward. But now she was part of the past too.

Now, as he sat up and listened to the cries of the other children, he wished he could return home. But Seth knew that there was no longer a home to return to. His mother was dead, he knew, he had seen her cut down by a blast from the barrel-like arm of one of the robo-men. And she was all he had. He and the other kids would be lucky if they could find a way to escape the robo-men.

They weren't quite robots, really. They were like zombies; not quite alive and not quite dead, and some of their parts were robotic, some were cold flesh. When they walked all he heard was the stomping of boots and the sounds of tiny motors working. Sometimes a laser would flash across his face, and he would know that one of the robo-men or robo-women was looking at him. But they seldom approached closer than a few feet. When they did, Seth would scream…every time.

Jenny hadn't been so lucky. Jenny had been taken the first day, they had arrived on the ship. The robo-men had come to take her, and she had fought them, punching and kicking. Jenny was thirteen and all the kids in the colony, even the older ones, had always looked up to her, because she was athletic, brave and strong. But she hadn't been strong enough. None of the older kids were here on the box ship and all the adults were dead. There was no one to help them anymore. Seth wanted to help Jenny and all of the others who were taken to different rooms, but he and the others had been injected with a drug, something to make them feel lazy and slow. Jenny never came back.

They force-fed him a dark green sludge, holding him down on the table with cold hands. "Organic nutrients," they told him coldly, each time. The first few times he had spit out the sludge. It tasted like nothing, but he imagined with horror that it was made from the bodies of all the creatures these robo-men captured and ground up, and he threw up whatever he accidentally swallowed.

Then one day, two of the robo-men came for him. This time, they had no organic nutrients to feed him. It was too bad, because by then he was so hungry he would have eaten the sludge willingly. "Assimilate," they told him, each grabbing him by an arm.

"Where are you taking me? Why are you doing this?" he screamed, and tried to wrest himself free, but they were stronger than machines. They dragged Seth down the corridor. "Why?" he cried out again.

"The young ones are adapting well to the implants. The young ones have strong bodies and will be assimilated."

* * *

 **Marca II**

The first and most noticeable feature of the colony was that unlike the other planets he had seen impacted by the Borg, there were still structures in place. Checking the map of the colony on his tricorder, however, it did appear as though a communications tower and several other mechanical facilities had been scooped up. The second thing Riker noticed was the heartbreaking silence. He knew what that meant. He motioned to Shelby.

"Make sure you're getting these readings," he said.

She nodded and knelt down next to the scooped area that had been the communications terminal. "It's obvious that the same type of powerful tractor beam was used here, and over there," she said pointing in the other direction. She got to her feet. "But if you look over here you have burns from some kind of particle beam—similar to our phasers."

"So they fired on the city, as well as stealing its technology…and people."

Shelby nodded and looked at her tricorder readings. "There is sign of the heavy particle beam, probably fired from a ship in orbit, along with plasma traces from small arms fire."

Riker moved toward the sound of an energizing transporter beam as the Enterprise crew appeared nearby. And it was then that he saw what the Borg had been firing at. "They're all dead," he said, choking on his own breath as he surveyed the bodies littering the streets of a once bustling city. He blinked as tears clouded his eyes.

* * *

"I've seen this before," Picard whispered, kneeling down next to the body of a young woman. Her eyes stared vacantly upward at the blue sky. He drew his palm over her face and closed her eyes.

"What, Jean-Luc? What have you seen before?" Beverly said, kneeling down beside him.

"All of it," he said. "Hundreds of times over and over," he said, looking at her, but it seemed he did not really see her, and was talking to himself. "How could I have forgotten?"

Not quite understanding him, in this strange introspective and odd he was now in, she put an awkward hand on his shoulder before leaving to continue searching for survivors, a task which she now intuitively knew was useless. There was no one left alive, and yet, as she checked the population figures, she saw that there were hundreds more reported living in this colony than the dead bodies she had already counted.

Seeming to read her mind, Walker stepped toward her. "Some of the colonists might have been incinerated by the ship's particle beams," he said. "We may never find all of the bodies."

"There's something more that happened here, Walker. I can feel it."

* * *

"You read my report, didn't you?" Picard said to his walking companion. "You're the only one who actually had the time to, I'm sure."

"Yes, I read it," replied Data, studying his tricorder readings.

"And?"

"I was struck by the amount of valuable information you were able to impart in just under 20,000 pages," Data said glancing at Picard.

Jean-Luc squinted at Data in the pale sunlight. "Data…may I tell you something?"

Data registered surprise. "Yes. Of course."

"I seem to have some…gaps in my memory, where the Borg are concerned. I've been wondering if it could be that my human brain is somewhat overtaxed by the information I learned while a Q."

"Intriguing," Data said. "At times I encounter similar deficits in my sub-processors, when running a new program. Eventually, I am able to compensate and return to optimal efficiency."

"You think there is no need to worry, then?"

Data halted. "Your question only seems relevant if you intend to remain with human kind…you."

Picard shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand. "You might be right," he admitted. "But it bothers me that I have this knowledge, but no memory of how I gained much of it."

Data knelt down next to an area of ash where a Borg drone had been lying before it expired. He scanned the area, taking minute samples. "And this only relates to your knowledge of the Borg…nothing else you learned while with the Q?"

Picard nodded down at the android. "Yes, most of my Q experiences I remember vividly, but…." He trailed off glancing down at Data's tricorder. He pointed at the screen. "We expected some residual radiation from the Borg attack, but look…the overall radiation levels are actually rising…something's not right, Data." He peered at the horizon, seeing a thin stream of vapor emanating from a building. "There…see it?"

"I believe you are correct. The change was very subtle, but there has been a .075 increase every three minutes since our arrival," Data said tapping at his tricorder, still crouching down. "The colony's main fusion reactor has been compromised. The smoke and pollution caused by the Borg attack is surrounding the city and preventing the radiation leak from dispersing normally, compounding the problem."

Picard put his hands around his mouth and started shouting. "Riker! Shelby!"

Riker and Shelby spun to look at him, stopping in their tracks. "What?"

He could hardly hear them, but they were much too close to the center of the colony.

"Might I suggest you utilize your communicator," Data said, before noticing that Picard had none.

"I left it on board…communication hasn't worked too well for me recently, so I thought I would eliminate it completely." said Picard. He leaned down and tapped Data's communicator. "Picard to Riker."

Captain Riker and his first officer were standing about 200 meters away. "Riker here, go ahead."

"Riker, you and your team need to turn back now, there's a coolant leak in the colony's fusion power plant. The radiation levels are only going to continue rising."

"Got it," Riker said. "Shelby just discovered the same thing. This whole place is toxic, and there's no one left here to rescue."

* * *

Walker and Beverly looked up as Geordi walked toward them, with Dr. LaForge close behind. "The place is soaked in radiation," said Geordi. "I recommend we get out of here as soon as possible."

"I agree, it is not safe," said Dr. LaForge, stopping next to Beverly. "Doctor Crusher, as much as I wish there were, there are no illnesses or injuries to treat here. Only death," he said solemnly.

Crusher turned to him, as the data she was streaming was suddenly beginning to make horrible sense. "My God, Mark…there are no children among the dead here. They took _all_ of the children."

* * *

"Where the hell is Picard?" demanded Yar, once everyone else was accounted for. "We are getting out of here, the radiation levels are off the charts."

Beverly Crusher shook her head grimly, looking off into the distance. "I saw him repeatedly crouching down next to dead bodies and he seemed to be talking to them…or to himself. I don't know don't see him anymore," she said worriedly.

"Well, he'd better hurry," said Mark LaForge.

Walker sighed and looked at Yar. "Just give him another five minutes, okay?"

Yar spread her arms wide in unspoken exasperation, but said nothing.

"Come on Walker, let's go and find him," said Beverly, breezing past Yar.

* * *

The radiation levels on this planet were higher than expected, and Picard already felt weak. For the first time, he considered whether his diet of root beer floats and candy bars was actually sustainable in the long-term. He felt his energy was sapped. "Just need to rest a minute," he reassured himself. Feeling dizzy, he closed his eyes and sat down heavily, cross-legged on the ground.

The darkness yanked him downward, and flashes of images spun around him. He heard a repetitive whirring sound, and a pair of green orbs, focused on him. Slowly, he came out of this disturbing daydream…was it a memory, or simply a radiation induced vision? He shook it back into his subconscious and came back to the present.

Blinking, he heard something new. Something real. He pushed himself up out of the dust, and listened intently. At first it had been just a faint scratching noise. And then he could have sworn that he heard a whimper or a moan. Someone was alive after all. He walked closer to a structure, and could see it was very dark inside. It appeared to be a storage shed of some kind. Apparently this kind of structure was too primitive for the Borg to take notice of it and scoop it up.

Behind him he heard Beverly and Walker yelling his name. He turned, and suddenly felt a kind of exhilaration, which he had not experienced in years. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him. "There is someone alive in here!" he shouted to them, and then proceeded into the shed. He heard footsteps hurrying behind him.

He wasn't prepared for the emotion, the wrenching pain of seeing what he saw. His heart pounded with every deliberate step he took further inside. Jean-Luc squinted in the dim light of the shed, and sniffed in the musty air. The heavy smell of blood filled his nose, and the hair rose on the back of his neck. It was a dog. And it had been severely injured by one of the Borg plasma beams, or perhaps a stray phaser beam from a defending colonist. However, it had been injured, the dog was not going to survive much longer. It was suffering. How could he have ever forgotten what this experience felt like? He felt a tear stream out of the corner of his eye and down his face.

"Jean-Luc! Jean-Luc," he heard Beverly and Walker yell to him, and then they were outside the shed. "What are you doing in there?" shouted Walker.

"Shh…" said Picard, lowering himself down so as to not appear as threatening to the dog.

"It's alright," he said spreading his arms out. The dog raised its head and bared its teeth silently. It was a very large dog, with thick black fur. It wanted to be left alone to die in peace. But as much as it needed to be free from suffering, he needed to help it. The dog emitted a low growl as he continued to approach slowly.

Beverly now saw what he was doing. "Jean-Luc, get _out_ of there," she warned, trying not to scream her words for fear of inciting the dog to attack.

"Shhh…" said Picard again, and the dog lifted its head to growl at him again. "It's going to be alright," he said softly. He could see in its eyes that it was exhausted from fighting to stay alive. It didn't trust him, and perhaps he even looked like a Borg to the dog. It was when he reached his left arm out that things took a turn for the worse. The dog lashed out with blinding speed and caught his forearm in its mouth. As it bit down with still powerful jaws, he heard the bones of his arm crack sickeningly, and he cried out.

"Jean-Luc, get free, so that I can shoot," Walker was screaming. "Use your phaser!"

Picard fell to his knees with the dog still gripping his arm, and with great effort of will, made eye contact with the dog. He could feel his own consciousness slipping, with the immense pain he was in. "…it'll be alright," was all he managed to grunt, while keeping his gaze fixed on the dog. The dog in turn stared into his eyes. "Good," he gasped. "You understand." Gradually the excruciating pressure lessened, as the dog relaxed its jaws, and began to pant loudly. Still maintaining eye contact with the dog, he reached out and touched the dog directly on its wound and then closed his eyes.

Even with his eyes closed, he could see the familiar white burst of light, could feel it emanate from his fingers and pulse through the dog and throughout his own body. The pain in his arm disappeared, and as he opened his eyes again, he saw that vibrancy had returned to the dog's delicate brown eyes.

He reached out slowly with his right hand and petted the dog slowly on its side where just a moment ago a gaping wound had been. In its place was a large patch of thick healthy fur. The dog's tail wagged once.

"There," said Picard, rising to his feet. "I know that you feel better now. I know I do," he said looking down at his repaired arm with satisfaction. He smiled down at the dog, and then turned to leave the shed.

Beverly and Walker stood staring at him. As he approached he saw they both had tears in their eyes. He smiled at them, and walked out past them without a word, to join the others. They followed him, and it wasn't until he had reached Riker and the others that he heard the sound of heavy panting behind him. It was the dog, and it was running toward the away team.

Picard laughed, and it felt like the first time he had ever laughed, and it felt just wonderful. Just as the transporter beam started to take him, he opened his arms wide and the dog jumped into them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

* * *

Picard sat across from Jack in the _Enterprise_ ready room. He had been called to the bridge as though he were an errant school-boy being called to the principal's office. And he wasn't happy about it.

"Jean-Luc, you brought a wild animal onto my ship," Jack said accusingly.

"Not a wild animal, Jack," Picard said evenly. "A dog..."

Jack clamped his mouth shut. "Yes, but _why_?"

"Because I saved her, and there was nowhere else for her to go. Jack if you have a problem with Marca, she and I can certainly leave this ship."

"Marca?"

"She's the sole known survivor of the colony we rescued her from, so I thought it fitting to name her after it. Besides, she answers to almost anything really."

"Is that what you want? To leave the Enterprise? Because if so, I'll just drop you and your new best friend on the next available planet," warned Jack.

"Isn't that what you want, Jack?"

Jack stood up angrily. "What are you saying?"

Picard rose to his feet slowly. "Oh Jack, let's be honest here. I've caused nothing but problems for you since I arrived. Admit it, you preferred me better when you thought I was _dead_."

He saw the punch coming too late, and Jack caught him square in the nose, bloodying it. Silently, Picard hoped that had Jack broken his hand, but apparently his nose had been too soft, and to his increasing surprise Jack kept coming, and Picard was forced to defend.

The next punch Jack threw, Picard stepped to the side, and threw an elbow into the left side of Jack's face, cutting his eyebrow. Jack grunted and went tumbling forward into the wall. He caught himself, and then glancing behind him kicked backward into Picard's stomach, sending him careening back and over Jack's desk onto the floor.

Moving forward, Jack reached up and touched above his eyebrow, where Picard had cut him. "You smug son of a bitch," he said, chest heaving.

Picard emerged from underneath the other side of the desk, and pulled himself up slowly. "So it is going to be like that, is it?" he said, breathing heavily.

"Yeah, it is," said Jack, grabbing Picard by his shirt collar and dragging him back over the desk.

Picard slammed his fist into Jack's left eye, and Jack let him go, staggering backward, clutching his wounded eye. Picard rolled onto the floor and immediately threw his arms around Jack's waist sending him crashing to the floor, with Picard following.

Jack reached up and grabbed Picard's throat. "Why did you have to _ruin_ everything, Jean-Luc? You don't even love them— _I_ love them." Picard let out an unintelligible gurgle in response.

* * *

When the doors opened, to emit Yar and Walker, neither man noticed. "Enough!" Yar screamed.

They both heard that, but Jack shook his head and continued to squeeze Picard's throat until his friend's face began to turn purple. In response Picard leaned his forearm into Jack's neck to force him to let go. Instead of letting go, Jack threw his knee wildly upward into Picard's groin, which sent Jean-Luc rolling off of him with a groan.

Jack coughed, and struggled to his feet, clutching his neck. Data now stood in the doorway and Walker and Yar had moved into the room. Picard was on his knees, curled in a ball with his face pressed against the floor. "I can't believe I forgot what this sensation felt like," he groaned into the carpet. "I may just throw up on your ready room floor Jack. How would you like that?"

"What the _hell_ has gotten into you two?" asked Walker quietly. He almost could not believe the state of his friends or the ready room for that matter, which was a wreck.

"Ask him-he's the jealous bastard," Picard said sitting up slowly and then leaning back on his hands.

"And you're less than half the man you were," responded Jack, leaning against his desk, still gasping.

Picard wiped underneath his bloody nose. "Yet another cheap shot from you, Jack."

"Get the hell out of my office," Jack said, walking toward Picard, who was still sitting on the floor. Walker grabbed him around his shoulders stopping him.

"As soon as I can _walk_ , Jack, I will," he said, struggling to get up. Yar reached out a hand and pulled him to his feet with a broad smile on her face.

Walker put a firm hand on both his friends' shoulders. "Get to sick bay, both of you," he ordered.

Picard shook Walker's hand from his shoulder. "You've got to be kidding me. I'll be in my quarters," he said limping out of the room.

* * *

Beverly had managed to go the rest of the day focused mostly on her work in the lab. Thankfully, Felix hadn't said a word about what had happened the night before, although he occasionally stole fleeting glances at her.

The truth was, although she was preoccupied, she was having more difficulty not thinking about what had happened down on Marca II. The widespread death and the astonishing and unexpected behavior of Jean-Luc had left her stunned into silence for most of the day after their away team mission earlier that morning. But more than anything, she thought about the children who had been taken away by the Borg. Would Starfleet send them to find the children? Were they dead? Based on the population records and the number of bodies recovered, the missing children numbered about fifty-five. Knowing that the children were out there somewhere suffering made her heart ache for them.

"Doctor LaForge to Doctor Crusher," came the Chief Medical Officer's refined voice.

"Go ahead, Mark," she said glancing up from her work.

"Beverly, there's been an incident…Captain Crusher has some injuries, and I think it would be best if you come out, please."

Beverly nearly dropped the instrument she was using on the counter before rushing out into main sick bay.

Dr. LaForge was running a tricorder over Jack's face and neck which were bloody and bruised. She looked down at his knuckles which were bruised and knew immediately he had been in a fight.

Walker stood nearby as though supervising, and Beverly could tell he was angry, because the angrier he got the quieter he got. She exchanged glances with him, before approaching Jack.

"Jack, what on earth happened to you?"

"You should see the other guy," he attempted a joke, which failed miserably. He smiled at Beverly which ended up being more of a grimace. His right eye was almost completely swollen shut and above that his eyebrow was cut open. Dr. LaForge was repairing it with a knitting tool. A large welt had formed on the front of his throat. She touched it gingerly.

"I'm not sure I want to see the other guy," she said examining Jack's damaged knuckles.

"No, I really don't think you do," agreed Walker darkly.

Beverly dropped Jack's hands lightly and stepped back, while Mark LaForge continued to administer medical aid to Jack.

"And, so who exactly is the 'other guy', Jack?" she asked him slowly. He averted his eyes.

"Do you really have to ask?" Doctor LaForge muttered under his breath.

Jack cleared his throat and then winced, grasping his bruised throat. "Jean-Luc and I just got in a little scuffle, that's all," he said.

Beverly leaned against the bio bed behind her. "And for what reason?"

Dr. LaForge rolled his eyes as subtly as possible, as the answer to this question should have been almost as obvious as the last.

Jack sighed tiredly. "He…he just got to me, Beverly. He pushes my buttons. I don't know how to deal with this new personality of his."

Beverly frowned. "Jack I don't know how to deal with him either! Neither does Walker," she said nodding in their friend's direction. Walker nodded in agreement. "But you don't see us fighting with him," she added.

"Well he doesn't exactly want to _fight_ with you, does he?" Jack said, glaring at her.

"Jack I don't know _what_ he wants from me," she said with quiet anger.

Jack laughed harshly and shook his head. "Right," he said, looking away.

"Jack, I'm not going to do this with you right here, in the middle of sick bay," said Beverly.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate your discretion," said Dr. LaForge coolly, putting away an empty hypo spray.

Jack shot him a look. Was it a necessary qualification for the position that a ship's Chief Medical Officer have an attitude? "Alright," Jack said catching her gaze again. "Let's talk later then."

"Fine," she said. "I'll be getting back to work now," she said turning away.

Walker stepped to her side as she walked away. "Do I even want to know what kind of condition Jean-Luc is in, Walker?" she asked in a low voice. She had no intention of paying him a visit to tend to his wounds. He and Jack were acting like idiotic teenagers and she wasn't planning on doing any enabling of their behavior.

"Ah…something similar to Jack, you could say." He looked down at her. "You're not going to go to him, are you?"

"Nope," she said and walked back into her lab.

* * *

Wesley was on his way back from working in Engineering, and from listening to another annoying, but well-intended lecture from LaForge on creating a successful relationship, when he saw his father hobbling ahead of him through the hallways. It was odd to see someone who was young and fit walking as though he were crippled. Gradually Wesley realized he must have been wounded somehow, and jogged to catch up with him.

"Hey," said Wesley, still unsure how to address this man. Picard stopped abruptly to turn to Wesley.

"Oh…hello Wesley. What are you up to?" He said as jovially as possible before resuming his painful walk in the direction of his quarters. Beneath his nose was covered in dried blood and he had what appeared to be fingerprints on his neck.

"Jeez…what happened?" asked Wes.

Picard laughed. "Just a piece of advice Wesley—and you don't have to accept it of course—never antagonize someone who has every reason to want to fight you, because more often than not, they will take the opportunity." He stopped and adjusted his trousers awkwardly, before starting to walk again.

"You got in a fight?" Wesley had luckily never been in a fight, and had little idea of what to do if he ever ended up in one. His father didn't answer and seemed reluctant to talk about it further.

"Here," said Wesley suddenly, draping Picard's arm over his own shoulders. "I'll help you get home." To his surprise, Picard seemed glad to accept his help.

"Mom said you brought a dog back from the colony?"

Picard nodded. "That's crazy!" said Wesley, sounding excited.

"Hmm…that's what Jack thought…more or less."

"Dad likes dogs, so I'm sure he wouldn't mind," said Wesley.

 _Your dad may even like the Borg more than he likes me right now_ , thought Picard. "Hmm," was all he said.

When they reached his door, Wesley ducked from underneath his arm and stood awkwardly staring at Picard.

Picard smiled at him. "Would you like to meet the dog?"

Wesley broke into a grin. "Yeah! I mean, sure, okay," he said trying to sound a little less intense.

* * *

 _ **USS Hood**_

Riker sat at his desk, staring into the small view screen. He couldn't help but notice the bruised face of the man looking back at him, but Riker had greater problems on his mind. "We have a moral obligation to track the Borg ship down and get those children back, Captain," he said.

"I agree," said Jack Crusher, from his ready room on board the _Enterprise_. He didn't appreciate Riker attempting to take the high ground. "But how do you suggest we follow them?"

"Commander Shelby has been able to pick up a subspace pattern. Those trans warp conduits Yar mysteriously referred to during her interrogation of the Borg prisoner can be located. If we move fast, we might be able to trace the Borg ship that attacked Marca II."

Jack nodded. "And if they can be located, then maybe these conduits can be traversed as well. Let's have our people work together. You're going to need Data on this, and Chief Engineer LaForge has some expertise in warp fields."

Riker smiled thinly. "While I appreciate the _expertise_ of your crew, Jack, my crew knows what they're doing…but I agree. I'll send Commander Shelby over to work with your people on the _Enterprise_. Riker out."

* * *

Without the power of clairvoyance, there was no way for him to know that she would be waiting for him in his quarters. Of course now that he had a large dog sharing his temporary home, one would have hoped that Marca would have done a better job guarding his living space.

Yar had changed from her usual black covert ops uniform and was now wearing something far, far skimpier, leaving little to the imagination. She had been lying on his couch, reading a tablet, and she looked up with a sly smile when the door opened and Picard and Wesley walked in. Except it was clear that she had expected he would be alone, because her face fell slightly, and was replaced by something closer to her normal scowl. She sat up on the couch, and tossed the tablet aside.

With thoughts of greeting the new dog all but forgotten, Wesley and Picard stared transfixed by Yar, who didn't seem at all pleased that Picard had brought a sixteen-year-old boy along for company. "Well…I can see my timing was poor again," she said getting to her feet.

Picard scratched the back of his head. "Um…." He suddenly wondered why he hadn't given in to this woman earlier. Was he crazy? Yes, she was by all other accounts an obnoxious, predatory, and reprehensible person, but still….

He glanced sideways at Wesley who was staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Yar. He resisted the strange urge to cover the boy's eyes, or to close his mouth before he started drooling, but really, that would have been much too dramatic, and certainly he'd already seen everything already anyway. _I wonder if he's going to tell Beverly about this,_ he thought suddenly.

"You know what?" Yar came to stand in front of him, ignoring Wesley. She ran a long finger down Picard's chest. "I will come back later when the timing is right. Besides in your condition, I don't think you can handle me," she said looking him up and down. "And I suggest maybe trying some ice," she said, exiting the room swiftly.

* * *

Wesley was the first to speak after she had gone. "Whoa," he said, moving to the couch and sitting down.

Picard hobbled past him. "Marca," he called out. _Some guard dog,_ he thought. Walking into his bedroom he found the dog curled up on his bed asleep. Upon his entrance, she raised her big head and looked at him with bloodshot eyes before yawning. Stretching, she jumped down from the bed and wagged her tail happily at him, grazing his leg as she walked by. He reached down and rubbed his hand along her side.

"Come along, we have a visitor." She followed him unhurriedly out into the living room, where Wesley was seated. The boy smiled as the dog approached, sniffing his outstretched hand. Apparently now very trusting after her near death experience, Marca sat down and leaned her body against Wesley's legs.

Wesley laughed and rested his hand on her head. "You named her Marca? After the colony?"

Picard nodded. "I haven't quite worked out the bathroom situation yet," he said. "I suppose that's something I should have thought of before bringing her back… But I took her to the holodeck for a brief run earlier and that seemed to work quite well." He sat down on the couch and turning sideways, painfully eased himself back into the cushions as he stretched his legs out.

Wesley was concerned. "Can I get you anything?"

Picard looked over at him. "Could you replicate me a bag of ice? That would be wonderful, thank you."

Wesley nodded and got up. Marca followed him over to the wall replicator, wagging her tail hopefully. "I think she's hungry," he said over his shoulder. "Should I replicate her something?"

Picard sighed. "No, she ate an entire roasted chicken from the replicator about two hours ago. Most likely she is hoping for another one, but she can wait a bit."

"Okay," said Wes, carrying a bag of ice back over to Picard.

Picard took it gratefully. "Thank you, son," he said without realizing his words until they slipped out. _Oops,_ he thought. Wesley stared at him intently.

He sat back down across from his father and watched as Picard placed the bag of ice directly on his lap. "Ahh…" he closed his eyes and leaned back into the couch. Marca had returned and laid down on the floor next to him resting her head on her paws.

Honestly, Wesley had thought the bag of ice was for Picard's nose or the fingerprint bruises on his neck. "Man…" said Wesley, "I didn't realize you got hit in the…."

Picard's eyes fluttered open again. "Alas, yes…."

Wesley shifted in his seat. "Um, if you don't mind my asking, what's going on with that Yar woman? I mean it seems like she's after you, or something…"

Picard chuckled. "She is, but it's not really what it looks like."

"Yeah…but what did you do to…to get her so interested in you? I mean, she was hardly wearing anything."

Picard turned to look at him with amusement. Apparently Wesley was requesting more romantic advice. "Look, I wish I could say she was actually interested in me, but I think rather she is interested in my power of Q. She's drawn to my superhuman powers—so I don't think it has anything to do with my regular human powers of attraction."

"So, hypothetically if you had no Q powers…"

"What would I do to attract a woman?"

Wesley flushed red and tried to assume a casual posture. "Yes."

Picard shifted and turned to look at Wesley. "The truth is, Wesley," he said gently, "I am quite out of practice in that area. However, I know it may sound like a cliché but being you is really the best way to attract someone. So that is my suggestion to you, young man. Be yourself."

Wesley nodded and then looked down at his hands as they both lapsed into silence. After a few moments, he looked up at his father whose eyes were again closed. "I heard you before, you know."

"Huh?" Picard opened his eyes slowly and looked at the teenager.

"You called me 'son'," Wesley said.

Picard continued to look at him. "Yes. For some reason…at that moment it seemed like the natural thing to do."

* * *

 **2357 Q Continuum**

"We would be fools not to expel this one after what it tried to do," said Q.

"We have _already_ been foolish, to think it could use our power with the discretion of a Q," said the elder Q. "This experiment has been ill-advised and no good can come of it."

"Well I for one believe it deserves another chance to prove itself," said another Q.

"Well you would, wouldn't you, Q?" said Q accusingly.

"How is the other human developing?" asked Q.

"It is…resistant…but seems to have a more refined morality than this one, which may explain the problem we are having with the younger human."

"And this so-called morality may explain its initial resistance to our efforts at indoctrination," said Q.

"The question remains, what to do with the one who broke the Rule?"

"The Rule wasn't specifically broken, but…there was an attempt at circumvention."

"Semantics," said Q.

"Enough," said the elder Q. "The decision is that the young human will stay with the Continuum for now. But it must be disciplined. And any further attempts at circumventing our rules will result in permanent expulsion."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

* * *

 **2356 Q Continuum**

He floated in place for a few moments, before winking into existence in his human shape. "What are you doing? Put those down!" he shouted. The blonde-haired young woman looked up at him with a clever and dangerous expression. She had been here longer than him, yet if she was twenty Earth years, he would have been surprised. Imagine the Q taking a teenage girl away from her family?

She turned around and in her right hand held a small blue and white globe-like shape. In her other hand she held a disk-like shape that was as black as deep space, but with an absence of stars or any other kind of light. "Make me," she taunted him. "Your power is weaker than mine. You still think you're human."

He said nothing, but held out his hand. "Give me the Earth. I see what you're doing, and you are going to break the rule."

She held up her other hand with the whirling black disk. "How long do you think the Earth will last inside this black hole? It's merely an experiment."

"How could you?" he whispered. "You were human once, even if you can't remember what it was like to be that way. This is not what the Q are."

"That is why I am greater than them. And one day they will be sorry they met me," she said, and then disappeared with a flash.

* * *

When Wesley arrived home for dinner, he found that his Dad had replicated a huge meal. So he knew something was up. When his Dad walked into their tiny dining area, he found out what that was. Wesley's jaw dropped. "Dad?"

Jack shrugged and waved his son to a seat at the table. "It's okay, Wes. It's not as bad as it looks." The truth was, he did look better than Picard had, but then he had clearly gone to sick bay for medical attention. Still, the left side of his face was visibly swollen and hard to ignore.

Wesley slowly sank into a chair, still staring at Jack. "What happened?"

"Nothing, son. Look, I made you sweet potatoes…just the way you like."

"Dad, stop talking to me like I'm a little kid!" he objected. "I don't want sweet potatoes, I want to know why you were fighting with my fa—with Captain Picard," he finished, quickly correcting himself.

Jack shook his head and laughed, taking a sip of his water. "So you went to see him? I bet he said all kinds of things about me, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't say anything about you," Wesley said. "Dad…what happened?"

Jack dropped his fork down on his plate with a clatter. "Wes, you might not be a little kid anymore, but there are just still some things I don't know how to discuss with you."

"Like what?"

Jack was quiet for a few minutes. "Everyone around here is changing, and I don't know what to do, Wes," he said, suddenly looking up.

"Dad, you're the one who has been acting weird."

"You didn't know Jean-Luc well enough when you were younger Wes. You don't know how different he is now. It's…shocking. It's hard for me to take."

Wesley sat back in his chair. He felt bad for his Dad, but he still didn't get it. "So he's not the same, so you—you kicked him in the nuts? I thought he was your friend."

Jack got up from the table and threw down his napkin. "He was my _best_ friend, Wes. Like no other best friend. And now…now I can't even trust him around my wife."

Wesley got up too, and folded his arms over his chest. "Dad…Captain Picard is my biological father, right?"

Jack nodded. "Of course, son. You know I wouldn't take that away from you…or him."

"But you must have always known that there was something between Mom and him. I mean they had me…."

Jack put his hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Wes, come here. Come sit down."

Wesley followed him to the living room area and they sat down across from each other. "Wes, your mother and I went through a bad period about a year into our marriage. You know, we'd been together almost four years by that point, but…well we both made some mistakes, and then eventually we got back together. The truth is, during that period, your Mom had a brief affair with Jean-Luc. Kind of like a one-night stand."

"You both made mistakes…you mean like me?" Wesley's expression grew dark.

"No, no no…" Jack put his hand on Wesley's knee. "That's not what I meant. I won't lie…when she first told me that you were Jean-Luc's child, and not mine, I didn't know what I would do. You had just been born, and I felt so lost. But she didn't love Jean-Luc, she loved me," he said, and something in his voice sounded like after all of these years he was still trying to reassure himself that this must be true. "At first, I didn't think I would ever forgive either of them, but Jean-Luc didn't know…and he was my best friend. I couldn't just throw that away. And eventually I was able to come to terms with it."

Wesley's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean he didn't know? That I was his kid?"

Jack looked down. "I asked her to promise not to tell him-"

Wesley stood up angrily. "Dad, I don't want to hear any more. No wonder you made him seem so wonderful after he disappeared. You felt guilty, Dad…you _should_ have felt guilty, both of you."

"Wesley, he's not exactly innocent. He slept with Beverly when she and I were still married. He did betray me."

"And then you betrayed him! Dad, either I was a mistake or I wasn't. Which do you want me to believe?"

Jack wiped tears from his eyes. "Wes, I don't blame you for being angry with me, but you know I have always loved you and to me you will always be my son."

Wesley sat back down, and dropped his face into his palms. _Just like Jean-Luc_ , Jack thought. After a few moments Wesley slowly raised his gaze to Jack's. The anger was still there, but there was also clarity of thought in his eyes. "Dad, what if he did love Mom? Maybe he still loves her and that's what you're so afraid of."

Jack rubbed his palms on his knees. "I don't know, I don't know. I don't understand him now. But back then…he didn't want a family, Wesley. I'm not trying to talk badly about Jean-Luc, but even he has limitations, and his relationships with people are a big one. I have to say, I'm glad you didn't inherit that from him. You're the one who's keeping us all together, son."

Wesley sighed and sat back. "Dad, I don't want that responsibility. I can't keep you and Mom together."

"Ever since Jean-Luc came back I've been losing her…and now I'm afraid I will lose you too, Wes."

"Dad, you and Mom split up a year ago. If she hasn't come back yet…beating up Captain Picard is not going to convince her to come back to you."

"What about you, Wes? Do I still have you?"

Wesley looked into Jack's eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Walker approached Picard, who was sitting alone at a table in Ten Forward. He was smoking again, and whatever it was, was quite pungent.

"I told Beverly I convinced you to stop smoking cigars…guess I spoke to soon."

Picard looked up at him through heavy lidded eyes, and then examined the thin roll between his fingers. "Oh, this is no cigar," he said looking satisfied. "Guinan gave it to me. She described it as her special herbal mix."

"Hmm," Walker said, waving his arm through the cloud of smoke as he sat down. He coughed into his hand. "I need to talk to you," he said.

"I am here to listen," Picard said, exhaling a puff of purple smoke into his friend's face.

"Can't you put that thing down for a minute?" Walker snatched the burning item from his friend's hand and smashed it out on the table.

"Hey," Jean-Luc said, protesting only mildly. Presently he shrugged. "What can I help you with, Walker?"

"Two things…first, this situation with Jack has got to stop."

Picard laughed. "He just can't bear to have me on his ship. The man has issues."

" _He's_ got issues? Look who's talking, Jean-Luc, you can't seem to decide what you want. And you've antagonized just about everyone."

Picard drank from his glass of water slowly, and turned to look out of the viewport next to him. He blinked a few times, as the stars seemed to shimmer. He looked over at the bar, wondering what exactly had been in that herbal mix.

He leaned in. "Tell, me Walker…what would you do in my position? Would you stay on this ship? Would you give up immortality to stay with humanity? Take your time if you need a few minutes to think," he said leaning back in his chair again.

"You sound as though you actually want to know the answer to that question," Walker remarked in surprise.

"Well…yes, I thought that was why one asks questions, Walker."

"Well, for starters, if a woman like Beverly gave me the time of day, let alone loved me…."

"You still think she loves me," Picard observed. "Are you delusional?"

"It's hardly a delusion. I know it for a fact. Why don't you?"

Jean-Luc drank the rest of his water. He was no longer interested in this subject. "What was the second item you wished to discuss with me, Walker?"

"How long have you known Yar?"

Something in Picard's eyes flashed. "What a very _strange_ question, Walker. When it was you who brought her on board this ship. She's your colleague after all."

"There is something going on with her," said Walker. "More than any of us know. Except maybe you…."

"Walker…it isn't like you to be so circumspect. If you have questions for Yar, why don't you just ask her directly? She's such a pleasant conversationalist."

Walker rapped his knuckles on the table. "You can't help but find all of this amusing, can you?"

"Whatever you say, old friend."

"You never answered my question. How long have you known Yar?"

Picard stood up. "Walker, have you ever considered that there are just some questions that are best left unanswered? Sometimes ignorance is really the best protection." He smiled, and patted his friend on the shoulder before walking away.

* * *

 **Later that evening...**

Picard sat in his quarters listening to some jazz records Riker had recommended. He was still bruised from his bout with Jack, but the music seemed to have healing effects on him. He realized that it had been rare that he had heard music while with the Q, and had missed it. "I suppose there are some benefits to being human," he said to himself, sipping a cup of tea.

Walker was correct, he and Jack needed to come to an understanding. They had been the best of friends once. The addition of Wesley to the equation complicated matters considerably. It made it more difficult to leave, even if his commitment to the boy was still in question. Beverly had a magnetizing effect of sorts that kept him not only thinking about her, but also made him question for the first time, his return to the Q.

The incident on Marca II, or rather his actions down on that colony had left him changed. Using his power had seemed right somehow at the time, and still did. After all, he had a new friend in Marca. But he only had one chance left to use his power to re-enter the Continuum. The way back still eluded him. What unsettled him now was that he was beginning to not care anymore whether he pleased the Q or not.

He picked up a data pad and resumed reviewing the Borg report he had written, and the data from the colony. The Borg's new fixation on children was disturbing, and had him stymied…for the moment. If he could have a few moments to think properly...he might figure it out. Avoiding fist fights or other confusing emotional interactions with Beverly was necessary to achieve this endeavor. He looked up, annoyed when his front door hissed open, interrupting his thoughts.

"Doesn't anyone on this ship ever wait to be invited in?" he said standing up as Yar walked in. Thankfully she was dressed in her black fatigues again.

Marca came running out of the bedroom and stopped next to him, growling at Yar. He had peeled himself a tangerine, and now popped half of it in his mouth. "She's a smart one, this dog," said Picard, staring at Yar with curiosity. "Solid judge of character...or lack thereof."

Marca growled again. "Down girl," he said softly.

"Are you talking to me or the dog?" Yar asked, circling him as though she were hunting him.

Picard drank the rest of his tea. "Whoever's listening," he said casually, putting the cup down.

"Well, I'm not," said Yar, stopping to look closely at him. "I've been trying to get you alone for days now. Do you always play hard to get?"

He smiled widely but said nothing. What was her game, he wondered? "What do you want, Yar?"

"Isn't it obvious? You said it the other day in your note: I want to know everything you know about the Q…."

"That's it? Why didn't you just ask? Why all the sexual innuendo?"

Yar shrugged. "Why not? Does that kind of thing bother you?"

Picard ate the rest of his tangerine. "I'm not sure," he said. He bent down and shooed the dog away gently. She reluctantly wandered away, but continued to sit watchfully from a corner.

Yar gazed at him. "You don't trust me, do you?"

Picard shrugged, and walked around the table, tapping it with his fingers thoughtfully. "Let's see, you have no personnel record; you work for Starfleet Intelligence, but even Walker Keel has no idea who you are. You know more about the Borg than any of the other humans I've met since I returned. And you seem to know about the Q too—and even more remarkably, you seem the least surprised by me and my return than anyone else. What's more…you openly display an interest in the powers I have from the Q. So, should I trust you?"

"Oh, if only you knew, Picard, just how similar you and I are," she said, she suddenly seemed to him to be genuinely excited and delighted by this conversation. Perhaps he was on to something.

"Really? How are we similar?" he asked carefully.

"We could do wonderful things together, Picard," Yar said and there was a faraway look in her eye. Where had he seen such a look before? As she met his eyes again, full recognition set in for him, and a very small part of his soul grew a little bit colder. He was careful, though not to show this reaction outwardly. He recognized now that he was being hunted. And he knew by whom. Suddenly, he wasn't so sure if he would survive this game….

Yar walked toward him, and grabbed him underneath his chin. "I like you Picard," she said. "And I actually hate most people," she said leaning in to kiss him on the neck.

Picard stepped back and began to laugh. Yar frowned at his reaction. "I'm sorry," he said, still laughing. "It has just been a very long time since anyone kissed me. How strange."

"I have a feeling you'll get used to it," said Yar advancing on him again. This time he didn't retreat, nor did he laugh.

* * *

Beverly Crusher sat in Ten Forward, after completing a long day. She'd had dinner, and had moved closer to one of the view ports so that she could gaze out as the stars streamed by. She had been trying to read a new book, but was too distracted. She wanted to go and see Wesley, but she didn't want to have to deal with Jack tonight.

Before leaving work, she had apologized to Felix for what had happened the night before. It was an awkward exchange, and he had looked crestfallen. He had told her that he had enjoyed kissing her and that he was sad that she didn't feel the same. Always the professional, Felix had told her again that it would not affect his work. _That makes one of us,_ she had thought at the time. She honestly hoped that he would move on. There were plenty of women on this ship who would be interested in Felix, if he would ever take his goggles off and step out of the lab.

Now sitting alone in Ten Forward, she told herself to stop thinking about what she really wanted to do, which was to go and see Picard. She wanted to ask him about how he had decided to use his power to save the dog. She had been thinking more and more about the missing children, and could not help but wonder if Jean-Luc could do something to help the children with his power of Q.

It wasn't the only reason she wanted to see him. She felt more drawn to him now than even a few days ago, perhaps because he had finally shown compassion by saving that poor dog on Marca II. But part of the problem was that she wasn't sure if she wanted to give him the satisfaction of going to see him. He was unpredictable now, and she had no idea what he would do or say. She supposed his new demeanor was exciting in a way, but she'd had enough excitement in the last week, and really just wished things would calm down a bit. With the Borg situation, however, she knew that was unlikely.

"Interested in a nice cup of calming herbal tea? Guaranteed to take the excitement right out of your life." Beverly glanced up to find Guinan standing there holding two steaming cups of tea.

"Uh…sure, thank you," Beverly said, reaching out to take the cup.

"Would you like some company?" Guinan looked at her placidly.

"Yes…that would be lovely," said Beverly, as Guinan sat down. They sat in silence for a few moments, while Beverly examined her cup of tea. Funny Guinan had showed up when she had.

Eventually, she looked up to find Guinan smiling at her serenely. "Um…" began Beverly, really just trying to make conversation. "You haven't seen Jean-Luc in here by any chance this evening, have you?"

Guinan nodded. "He was here a little while ago. Were you looking for him?"

"No," said Beverly quickly, and then flushed with annoyance at her own reaction to such a simple question. "I mean, I was just curious. You seem to be his friend."

"Yes. Picard and I go way back…at least to the beginning of this week when he teleported into my bar."

Beverly smiled, not sure what to say to that. "It was nice of you to bring him by the other morning. I'm not sure what I would have done if he had come by himself," she said, sipping her tea, which seemed to be just the right temperature.

"Why is that" asked Guinan.

Beverly wasn't used to talking about her feelings to people she hardly knew. Guinan had come on the ship just after she had departed for Earth the year before, and so in truth she hardly knew Guinan at all. Yet she felt entirely comfortable, even compelled to talk to her. "I still haven't come to terms with the fact that he is alive and back in our lives, I suppose."

"Is he different than he used to be?"

Beverly nodded. "But that's only part of it. I…feel differently about him now, and I'm not sure why. It could be because I am no longer with Jack. It's a kind of pull, that I feel."

"Does Picard know how you feel?"

Beverly shook her head vehemently. "I don't want to tell him."

"Why?"

"I know I barely know you, Guinan, and it isn't fair for me to lay all of this on you…but I just can't bear to be rejected by him. I mean, perhaps I would deserve it after what I just did to Jack, and after what I did to Jean-Luc all those years ago." She wiped her eyes, which had filled with tears. "But I—I just don't want him to turn me away."

Guinan reached out to touch her hand lightly. "You need to unburden yourself of all of that guilt, Doctor," she said. "It's dragging you down."

Beverly laughed and ran her sleeve over her eyes. "You're right. And I need to do it for myself, not for anyone else—not even for Wesley."

Guinan smiled. "Good thinking," she said softly. Guinan let go of Beverly's hand and leaned back. "Can I ask you something?" Beverly nodded, composing herself. "Are you afraid of him?"

Beverly laughed, surprised at the question. She clasped her hands together. "Yes…shouldn't I be? If he's still a Q…."

"Yes, if he is still a Q, and you've personally seen evidence that he is, that does mean he is potentially dangerous. But that doesn't mean he is a danger to you, Doctor. In fact, I think it is of benefit to us all, if you are able to overcome your fear of him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the less he believes he is feared, the more human he will feel. And the more human he feels, the more likely he is to stay with us here."

Beverly felt a shiver go through her. "Do you think he still really intends to leave us again?"

"I think Picard is still under the impression that he doesn't belong here," said Guinan. "I think he still may be holding out hope of returning to the Q Continuum."

"And what am I supposed to do about that?" asked Beverly. "If he doesn't want to stay with us Guinan—not even to be with his own son—what can I do to convince him? And why should I even try?" she demanded angrily.

"To a certain extent, you're right. But there is more to it than that," suggested Guinan.

Beverly sighed. "What?"

"The Q kicked him out of the Continuum at a moment in time when things are starting to go to hell for everyone because of the Borg. Do you think it's a coincidence? I don't," Guinan said, getting up from the table.

Beverly looked up at her. "And so you think that he was meant to come back to us at this time? To help us stop the Borg?"

Guinan nodded. "Yes, and the problem is, he doesn't know it yet."

* * *

Beverly left Ten Forward with a renewed vigor. She needed to see Jean-Luc; needed to tell him that they all needed him. That she needed him to stay. She didn't care how he would react anymore, she just needed to tell him. She arrived in the corridor near his quarters, when the alarm began to sound. "Red Alert, Red Alert…Enemy ships incoming."

She halted, and then froze in her tracks as the door to Picard's quarters opened and Yar ran out, zipping up her black uniform. Picard halted at the door. He was wearing only boxer shorts, and his arms spanned the doorway, as he watched Yar leave and then looked out almost vacantly at the red shadows blinking in the hallway. She stared at him, and wished that she had the power of the Q at that moment, because she could have transported herself away. But instead, his eyes met hers and everything that she had feared seemed to pass between them.

Time seemed to slow down for her as she turned to leave in stunned silence. Vaguely it occurred to her that she should report to her post in sick bay in case there were casualties. She didn't even see the security personnel as they rushed past her, and she didn't hear Jean-Luc yelling her name as he ran out behind her. It wasn't until she heard Data's voice echoing throughout the ship, that she was snapped out of her dream-like state.

 _"_ _Attention all personnel, this is Commander Data. We have engaged the Borg."_


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

* * *

 **A few minutes earlier…**

Yar moved away from him in frustration. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded, leaning back on the other side of the couch, and running a hand through her long hair. "Two hours of foreplay is about as much time as I'm willing to put in for you, Picard."

"I can't," he said, catching his breath and rolling away from her.

"What do you mean you _can't_? You're a Q aren't you?"

He stared at her unblinking. "You think I would use my powers for _that_?"

"No, you know what I think?" she said, pushing him in the chest. "I think your friend permanently damaged you."

Picard sat up again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's possible," he said.

Yar sighed and got to her feet. She began to casually get dressed. "Well, since there's nothing else to do," she said sounding irritated, "let's talk," she said, looking at him with a sly smile as she pulled on her boots.

"Talk?" he frowned. "About what?" he asked trying to sound as naïve as possible.

She looked at him with an inquisitive expression. "Like about…how I am beginning to think you don't want to be a Q anymore, Picard."

He stood up. "What makes you think so?"

"Well…you've only used your powers twice since you returned to the world of humans. At least, only twice that I know of. Why is that?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps I haven't felt the need," he said.

"Or perhaps you're turning back into a human."

Picard smiled. "But isn't that why Starfleet sent you and Walker here in the first place? Perhaps I should congratulate you on a job well done, Yar…."

She seemed to ignore him. "I've been told…that a real Q can give someone else the power of Q. Isn't that true?"

He folded his arms over his chest, feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden. Why was she still pretending? Did she think he didn't recognize her now? He frowned. Could he give someone the power? He hadn't thought about it seriously, because he had been so intent on retaining his power and returning to the Continuum. Well, he certainly knew he wasn't going to give his power to _her_. "Why do you ask, Yar?"

"Because if you don't want it, I would be happy to take it from you," she said.

"Yes, of course you would," he said quietly. They stared at each other silently for a few more moments as the room seemed to close in on Picard.

Suddenly Marca emerged from the bedroom and began to growl. Her hackles were raised and her body went rigid as she stared oddly up at the ceiling. Picard and Yar both looked at her with growing alarm. It was then that the red alert began to sound throughout the ship.

Yar leveled her index finger at him. "This conversation isn't over," she said, before rushing out the door.

* * *

He followed Yar to the door, and leaned out into the hallway, wondering what all the commotion was about. He hoped it wasn't the Borg. Glancing down the hallway, he saw Beverly standing there staring at him. For the first time since returning from the Q he felt self-conscious about his body, and he shrank back a bit in the doorway. She continued to stare at him with a deflated and shocked expression for a few moments as security personnel rushed by her.

Eventually, she turned around without a word and began walking swiftly in the other direction, as he heard Data announce that indeed it was the Borg who had arrived on the scene. He should have felt the urgency of life and death in that moment, but the only thing he could think about was stopping Beverly.

He felt so incredibly guilty, something he hadn't felt in years, and it was a decidedly unwelcome emotion. He ducked back in his quarters and hurriedly threw on his pants, a shirt, and boots before running back out. Marca barked a warning at him. He turned back around and pointed at her. "Stay," he said, before the door hissed shut.

* * *

As he raced through the corridors of the ship, he realized he had no idea what to say to her if he caught her. He also realized that she walked incredibly fast. _Those wonderful long legs_. Suddenly, through a crowd of officers and semi-frantic civilians, he saw her red hair, and picked up his pace. Rushing around in front of her, he grabbed her arm.

She pulled back in shock, clearly surprised to see him. "Don't touch me, Jean-Luc," she said yanking her arm away angrily. He had underestimated her strength, and probably not for the last time either.

"Wait," he put his hands up pleadingly, out of breath. "I won't touch you again, I promise."

She eyed him suspiciously.

"Just let me explain…it wasn't what it looked like," he said.

"Oh, it wasn't? I saw Yar zipping up her uniform coming from your quarters and you standing practically naked watching her leave. I'm not an idiot, Jean-Luc; I can put two and two together. And apparently, even after all these years so can you," she snapped, moving to walk around him.

"No, that's just it!" he said, jumping in front of her again. "I couldn't…I mean I wasn't able to…."

She studied his face. "Jean-Luc, look at me…."

He focused his gaze on her intently. "I am… I'm looking at you."

"Do I look like I want to hear the sordid details of what you did with Yar?" She paused, as what he had just said sunk in slowly. She shook her head and closed her eyes as she tried to rid herself of a disturbing mental image. "…why the _hell_ did you just tell me that? No matter what happened, she was there in _your_ quarters, and it took a red alert for you to stop doing…whatever it is you were doing."

"I told you—"

"Did you somehow think that I would feel better knowing that you tried to have sex with her but weren't able to?"

His face fell slightly. "Um…well I thought you might…feel a _little_ better," he said, looking and sounding bewildered.

"Well I don't" she lied, and started walking again.

He walked quickly to keep pace with her. "Wait, I need to tell you something, Beverly-something I just came to realize. Please…."

"We're under attack, in case you hadn't noticed, Jean-Luc. I have to get to sick bay."

"Alright," he said slowing down. "I'll tell you later then…."

"Jean-Luc, we are under a _red alert_ ," she shouted at him. Part of her really wanted to slap some sense into him. "There might not _be_ a later!" she said and continued to walk away from him.

"My heart is under a red alert," he suddenly blurted out.

She stopped and turned around and actually laughed as she regarded him. Had he completely lost his mind? Yes, yes he had, she concluded. "What?! Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound right now?"

"I don't doubt that…but I know that I love you," he declared, dropping his hands to his sides.

She shook her head at him. "No," she said firmly.

"Yes," he said. "Beverly, I will show you I'm the same man I used to be."

"No, you're _not_ the same man. Because the Jean-Luc Picard _I_ _loved_ wouldn't be down here, spouting awful poetry trying to impress me like a self-involved teenager. He would be up on the bridge trying to find us a way _out_ of the mess we're in!" With that she whirled around and left him standing there.

He dropped his head, looking down at his feet, and placed his hands behind his back. After a few moments he raised his head, feeling much clearer and focused as he gazed out of a nearby view port. "Point taken," he said to no one in particular, and turned around to walk in the opposite direction.

* * *

 ** _USS Hood_**

Captain Riker stood in front of his command chair on the bridge of the _Hood_ , nearly entranced by the horror that now appeared on the main viewer. The _Hood_ and the _Enterprise_ floated side by side in space. Surrounding them were three Borg ships, hanging motionless as if waiting. The fact was Will Riker had never seen a Borg ship, despite all of his close calls, and his habit of showing up on planets just hit by them. He'd never seen one. And now there were three of them, and they had him and his crew cornered. Commander Shelby was on board the Enterprise working with Jack Crusher's crew to find a way to trace the Borg ship that attacked the Marca II colony and kidnapped its children. He wasn't happy to be without his first officer at this crucial time. In fact, he wondered if he would ever face a more crucial time as a starship captain.

A few minutes ago, Commander Shelby reported to him that the trace patterns were different from those found in orbit around Marca II, and that it was unlikely these ships had the Marca II children.

"Shields up!" he said.

"Those cubes must be at least three kilometers across on each side," said the officer at the helm.

"Cut the chatter, Hines," Riker snapped. "Hail the _Enterprise,"_ he said. _Crusher wanted to work together…well now he has his chance,_ thought Riker.

In a moment, Jack Crusher had snapped into view. " _Any ideas, Captain Riker?"_

"I was going to ask you the same thing," said Riker. "I'll hail them which should distract them while you run a sensor sweep of their ships. We need to know what armaments they have."

" _And then what? We already know from Picard's report that we're outgunned at least 100 to 1. Some plan."_

"Would you rather just turn tail and run, Jack?"

" _If it's our only chance of survival, yes."_

* * *

 ** _Enterprise_**

Data turned around, at the sound of the turbo lift doors opening. Picard strolled on to the bridge, hands clasped tightly behind his back. He was dressed in a red and black command uniform, complete with a communicator, but absent the command pips.

"Playing dress up, Jean-Luc?"

"Jack I knew you'd be impressed."

Jack turned halfway around. "Security," he said, glancing up at his tactical officer. "Get him the hell off my bridge," he said, turning back to face the view screen.

The tactical officer moved toward Picard, who held up his index finger wagging it back and forth slightly, giving a non-verbal warning, and then turned and walked the other way. He moved to a science station and began typing quickly.

"Don't bother to hail them. They will hail you," said Picard over his shoulder. He tensed as a security officer placed a hand on his arm.

"You sound like you have all the answers, Jean-Luc," said Jack.

"Let's hope I at least have the ones we need, Jack," said Picard.

" _We are the Borg. Your race will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."_ The strange voice that emanated through the audio channel sounded like thousands of voices speaking at one time.

"Still want me off your bridge, Jack?" inquired Picard.

Jack could almost feel the man staring smugly into the side of his head, but when he turned around, to his surprise, Picard was turned away, continuing his typing into the science terminal.

"Let him stay," Jack waved at the security man, who backed off.

"How many people under the age of seventeen are on board this ship?" asked Picard.

"Four hundred and twelve," said Data.

"Can you fit all four hundred and twelve of these children into Ten Forward?"

"Yes," said Data.

"Do it," said Picard.

Jack stood up. "Belay that order Data. Captain Picard, _I_ give the orders on this ship," he snapped.

Picard turned around from his position at the science station. "Jack, I don't give a damn who gives the order, but the Borg are here for one reason and one reason only. They want the children, and they won't rest, until they have taken them all. Now I think we both want Wesley safe," he said looking at Jack pointedly. Jack glared back at him wordlessly.

"Once the kids are in Ten Forward, Jean-Luc; then what?" asked Walker. "They'll be sitting ducks all in one place."

Picard walked forward and leaned against the railing over the command center. "It's not perfect, but it is the only way to ensure that all the children are accounted for and kept safe. You need a transport scrambler, to disrupt the Borg ability to beam onto this ship. Quick transports in, and out is their preferred mode of travel…and of kidnapping," he added.

Jack looked at Data. "If Captain Picard is correct that the Borg are only interested in the children, setting up a pattern scrambler around the perimeter of Ten Forward might discourage the Borg from transporting in. We can modify one in less than fifteen minutes, Captain," said Data.

Jack stared at Data. "Make it so," he said, nodding at Picard.

The slight tribute Jack gave him didn't go unnoticed, but he couldn't focus on personal issues at the moment. "What about the _Hood?_ Are there any children aboard?" asked Picard.

" _We don't have any children on board the Hood_ ," Riker spoke up. " _That's one of the nifty new features of the Galaxy Class ships like Enterprise…_." Riker directed his attention to Picard. _"Captain, what exactly are we dealing with here?"_

"It's a Borg triad," said Picard. "They operate together as a single unit."

"Meaning?" Walker stared at him.

Picard rubbed his chin. "Meaning…figure out where the lead ship is, destroy it, and the other two ships will withdraw or go into stasis, long enough for us to escape."

Walker turned to Yar. "He's right," she confirmed. Walker noted she seemed even more removed and unconcerned than usual.

 _"_ _And how do you propose we figure out which is the lead ship, Picard?"_ asked Riker from the view screen.

"Whichever ship fires on us first, is the lead ship."

 _Great,_ thought Jack. "And what chance do we actually have of destroying one of those things with our combined firepower, Jean-Luc?" Jack said.

"Not good," said Picard.

"The actual odds are roughly three hundred to one, Captain," said Data, glancing at Crusher.

"Sounds about right," said Yar, moving to sit down almost casually in the command center.

Picard frowned. "I would have thought the odds much worse than that, Data."

 _"_ _So we just sit here and wait for them to fire on us? I don't like it,"_ Riker said, starting to feel very restless.

"As soon as they attempt transport and find they are unable to do so, they will shift tactics and attempt to disable this ship by firing upon us," said Picard.

"Tactical recommendations?"

"Stay outside of a two kilometer perimeter," said Picard. "They have very powerful tractor beams operating within that range. We'll have to make everything else up as we go along," he said.

* * *

"Will, I don't want to leave you here. Not now," said Deanna.

He moved around his desk and hugged her tightly. "I know…but they need your skills on the _Enterprise_ to help quarantine the children. I can't imagine how those parents feel over there, not knowing when or if the Borg will show up."

She squeezed him back. "I still don't like it."

He slowly pushed her away and looked at her. "I don't either. But I'll see you soon, I promise. I love you. Now get out of here and be safe…that's an order."

"You stay safe too, Will."

* * *

"Captain Crusher to Doctor Crusher." Beverly looked up from prepping a triage bed in sick bay's emergency ward. It was her least favorite thing about being a ship's doctor: preparing for emergency casualties.

"Go ahead, Jack," she said.

"Beverly, I just want to let you know…Wesley and the other children are being moved to Ten Forward where they are to be protected by a force field. Data and Geordi have set up a pattern scrambler and force field around the outside and inner wall of the room to prevent transport in. And the place is well guarded by security teams."

Beverly brought a suddenly shaky hand up to her mouth. "The Borg…they're here for the children?"

Jack hesitated. "Yes. But it's going to be alright and Wesley is going to be safe. We have a plan."

She quickly composed herself, and took a few deep breaths. "Good. Did you tell Jean-Luc about Wesley yet?" She hoped so, because she wasn't about to.

"He knows…the whole thing was his idea. Take care down there, Beverly. Crusher out."

* * *

Picard walked to the entrance of Ten Forward with Counselor Troi and Guinan. Something made him hurry. "Are they all inside yet?" he asked. About twenty security officers were posted in the corridor outside of the lounge.

"Yes, Captain, they are all inside," said Counselor Troi. "And quite calm," she added. She studied him, and subtly brushed against his mind. He was quite different than the first few times she had encountered him, and she decided it was an improvement. She also found it quite interesting that he was now wearing a Starfleet command uniform. She decided to raise the subject with him later…if they all made it until later.

Guinan greeted him with a slight smile. "Wesley told me he is going to monitor the intensity of the field from inside Ten Forward," she said.

Picard felt something then, it swirled around in his chest for a few moments and then it rose to create a warm feeling in his neck. His heart beat a little bit faster.

Troi raised an eyebrow as she watched him. _"By the gods…he is feeling pride. How wonderful,"_ she thought, smiling internally.

He nodded, and stepped around them, walking toward the entrance. "Uh, sir? You can't go in there," said the head security officer. "Captain's orders."

Picard stared him down. "The hell I can't," he said. "My son is in there," he proclaimed, brushing by the security man.

"My goodness… a lot has changed in just a few days," said Troi glancing at Guinan.

"I noticed. So how long do you think before he's in command of the ship?"

* * *

Picard stepped inside, and walked over to Wesley, who was studying a tricorder. Now that he was inside, he wasn't quite sure why he had come, or what he should say. He had just been compelled to walk in for some reason. "Wesley," he said, and the teen looked up from what he was doing and broke into a smile. Picard beckoned him over.

"Hi Captain," said Wesley, shutting his tricorder. He tried to hide his surprise. His mother had just come by to see him before rushing back to sick bay, and she had given him the medical tricorder—she said in case he needed it. Absently he touched the side of his face where she had kissed him.

Picard nodded. "Wesley I'm glad I found you. I have something to give you." He pulled something from underneath his shirt and handed it to Wesley.

Wesley looked up at him perplexed. "What is it?"

"It's a pair of pliers, Wesley."

"Huh?"

"It's an ancient tool I learned about while time traveling when I was with the Q. Very useful. Now, "he said placing a hand on Wesley's shoulder. "If a Borg gets past the scrambler and into Ten Forward and comes for you, I want you to use the pliers to remove a small green node on the Borg's head, located right about here," he said pressing a point on Wesley's forehead. "Just grab hold of it and yank downward with all your strength. You see, the Borg have tools implanted in their extremities, and I would guess that they would react less to a pair of pliers in your hand, than a more obvious weapon. You won't be able to fight a Borg drone—they are much too strong. And a phaser blast like the one you are trying to construct on your tricorder won't work either. You see each Borg has its own personal force field. The Borg do have the ability to adapt. How they react to this tactic remains to be seen."

Wesley nodded. "But we'll have a fighting chance. Uh…how did you know I was trying to build a phaser?" he asked nervously.

Picard grinned. "It is exactly what I would have done."

Wesley laughed. "Wow, that's crazy." He quickly sobered. "But you don't think they will get in, do you?"

He shook his head. "We're going to do our best to make sure they don't Wesley. Now…you take care," he said, turning to walk away.

"Captain?" Picard turned halfway around questioningly. "You be careful too, sir," said Wesley, with a smile. But as he watched his father walk away, he began to feel a sort of uneasiness about what the near future might bring.

* * *

"Captain," said Data, who was manning Ops. "We are experiencing multiple attempts at transport by the Borg."

Jack sat forward in his chair, gripping the hand rests. He checked his own readouts on his personal screen. "Is the scrambler working?"

"Yes, Captain," said Data. "All Borg attempts thus far have been prevented sir."

"And if they fire on us? Will the scrambler be compromised?"

"The ship-wide scrambler will be affected, Captain, as it is connected with ship's power. However, the modified field protecting Ten Forward has a separate generator, and should not be compromised, even if ship's power is drained to the shields or weapons systems."

Jack exhaled a little bit of his concern, but they were very far from being out of the woods. They hadn't even been fired on yet.

"Captain," said the tactical officer, "Incoming message from the Borg—"

 _"_ _Enterprise ship and primitive organic life forms…you will deliver to us the young ones of your kind."_

"Hailing frequencies open, sir."

"We have no young ones on board," said Jack, getting up from his chair. "Now cease your attempts to board my ship," he demanded.

 _"_ _Your attempts at deception have failed, Enterprise Captain,"_ said the Borg collective. _" We require your young to continue our biological improvements. If you do not deliver them to us, you will be extinguished. Resistance is futile."_

"I've got news for you…where I come from resistance is everything," Jack shouted. "Cut the channel, dammit." He sat back down and tapped at the controls on his arm rest.

"The Borg ship at three o'clock to starboard is firing, Captain," announced tactical.

"Evasive maneuvers! Full power to the front deflector shield," said Jack, as the ship shuddered. "Fire phasers!"

"Hull breach on deck 14. Decks 9 thru 15 reporting casualties, sir."

"Repair teams to Deck 14 immediately."

"Shields are now at 78 percent, sir," reported Data.

 _Jesus, we've only been hit once_ , thought Jack. "Reverse engines," said Jack. "Take us around 180 degrees and fire aft photon torpedoes," he ordered.

"Sir the _Hood_ is now engaged and firing on the lead ship."

As the ship swung around to present it's back to the Borg ship, Jack raised and lowered his arm almost unconsciously. " Fire."

"Captain," said Data, "The two Borg ships have moved in front of us. They appear to have trans-warp capability," he said calmly. On the view screen the two following Borg ships had been in one spot and then had in a blink reappeared right in front of the _Enterprise_. Jean-Luc had said to ignore the ships and focus on the lead ship. Seeing how poorly they were doing against one ship, he really couldn't argue with that logic.

"Sir, the _Hood_ is taking heavy fire," tactical warned.

"So are we," Jack muttered. "Goddamn it Data, are our weapons even making a difference?"

"Damage to the lead Borg ship is negligible," Data confirmed.

 _"_ _Intruder alert, intruder alert,"_ announced the computer.

"We have two Borg transports into in Engineering," said Data.

"Security team four to Engineering. Take all precautions, but shoot to kill," ordered Jack.

"Borg ship is firing, Captain."

"Sir, our shields are at 46 percent," Data warned. His fingers flew over the controls. "The _Hood_ has taken severe damage to its left nacelle, Captain." Sure enough on the main viewer the _Hood_ twisted to and fro in space as if it were hanging by a thread.

Jack jumped up from his seat. "Take us within transporter range of the _Hood_. Prepare to take on additional casualties."

* * *

The bridge of the USS Hood was literally on fire. Yet another explosion had just rocked underneath the main viewer. Officers ran back and forth spraying fire suppressant. Riker coughed raggedly, as he staggered forward to aid the wounded officer at the helm. He put a hand on Hines' shoulder, and with very little pressure, the young man slid to the floor lifeless. Riker blinked and turned back around, trying to put all emotion out of his mind. "Engineering, report!"

"Left nacelle is critical, Captain," came the weary reply. "The ship can't be salvaged, and if we stay much longer, we'll go down with her."

Riker sat down heavily in his command chair and stared blankly down at the seared skin on his hands and forearms. "How long do we have?"

"Fifteen minutes, tops," said the officer in Engineering. It wasn't Chief Engineer Feldman, on the line, and he realized dully that meant Feldman was likely dead.

"This is Captain Riker. All personnel are ordered to begin emergency evacuation procedures," he ordered sending out a ship wide message. "Hail the _Enterprise_ and let them know we will need to send our wounded to them. All others man the life pods and shuttles."

* * *

 _ **Enterprise**_

"Sir?" The young ensign studied Picard's uniform. He appeared to be a high ranking officer, but he had no rank pips on his collar. And the ensign felt certain he would have recognized this man before as one of Captain Crusher's command officers.

Picard ignored the man and walked into the transporter room. "Sir, this area is off limits right now," said the ensign. "We're under attack by the Borg."

"Really," said Picard, stepping behind the transporter controls. He typed in a code quickly.

"Sir, I can't let you do that. Now, I'm going to call security if you don't move away from the controls in three seconds. One, two…"

Picard pulled out his phaser and pointed it at the nervous man. "This is set to stun, Ensign, but it's the kind of stun that makes you wake up with a very bad headache. So I am going to give you three seconds to leave the transporter room, or I will shoot you."

The ensign backed up quickly, but was still determined to call security after, of course, he had safely exited the transporter room backwards. After the ensign had gone, Picard reached over the transporter terminal and hit a button.

Holstering his phaser, he jogged up on to the platform and waited a few moments, until he felt the familiar sensation of the transporter energizing and his particles dispersed.

* * *

"Sir, the _Hood_ is proceeding with evacuation, and we have already taken on our own casualties," reported the tactical officer. "Sir! The _Hood's_ shields have failed."

Jack was jarred in his seat as another plasma blast struck the _Enterprise_.

"Captain, someone just transported from transporter room three onto the _Hood_."

" _Onto_ the _Hood_? What the hell? How? Our shields are still up." Jack Crusher got up from his command chair.

"Our shields were fluctuating, sir. A successful transport was unlikely, but it seems the odds were not impossible." Data turned around. "Sir…it was Captain Picard."

* * *

 **Hi, thanks for continuing to read this story and for reviewing, I appreciate it. -PP**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

* * *

 ** _USS Hood_**

As the smoke continued to seep through vents onto the _Hood's_ bridge, Riker woke up coughing and wheezing. _Am I waking up just in time to die?_ he thought. _Deanna…can you hear me?_

Dimly he heard the sound of the computer talking: " _All escape pods have been deployed…all escape pods have been deployed. Attention: the portside warp nacelle has malfunctioned. Ten minutes until complete warp core compromise."_

Riker knew there was actually one more escape pod, located just below and adjacent to the bridge. But he hadn't been able to reach it in time. The ship, his ship was going to explode, and he, its captain was going down with it in what he had always been told was the greatest tradition of ship's captains. He had only intended to be the last to evacuate, in order to ensure the safety of the rest of the crew. He wasn't interested in dying anytime soon. Deanna was on the Enterprise—safe for now, and he was determined to re-join her. But how?

He tried to shift onto his side and was met with excruciating pain. It was his legs. He couldn't move them, and even if he could sit up, he doubted that he would be able to move whatever object was pinning them. Trying to keep his head low and away from the black smoke, he tried to remember what had happened. He gasped in pain and anger, as it came back to him in a rush.

On his way to the utility tunnel, which would have led him to the only remaining escape pod, he had passed the turbo lift, which of course, was non-operational, and the lift tube itself was on fire. As if triggered by his passing steps, the door to the turbo lift had blown off and struck him. The next thing he knew, he had woken up and there was blood all around him. For the first time in his life, he knew it was almost certain that he would die.

And that was why, when Picard materialized in a transporter beam in the middle of Riker's bridge, it was one of the most glorious sights he had ever seen. Riker, struggled to sit, up and then shouted in pain, lying back down again. But someone was here; he wasn't alone any longer. He actually laughed, almost giddily from the relief of it. "Over here," he shouted. "Picard, I'm over here!"

Picard coughed and squinted, waving his arm in order to catch a glimpse of Riker through the smoke. Captain Riker lay in a twisted heap, his legs smashed underneath the turbo lift door and inner wall of the lift. The force of it must have been incredible, given the orange glow still emanating from what was now just a smoking hole in the wall.

"Hold on, Riker," Picard said. Kneeling down, he saw the blood, and knew he would have little time to put enough pressure on the man's wounds to keep him from bleeding out. And if he failed…. "Listen to me," he said, walking around the bridge to find something to wrap Riker's legs with. "Do you still have warp capability?" Riker grunted, which Picard took as a yes.

His eyes fell on the dead helmsman. "Forgive me," he whispered as though the man might be able to hear him. Dropping to his knees he gently but quickly pulled the dead man's shirt off and began ripping it into strips. Glancing at the helm station, he tapped at the controls, and to his relief they responded, blinking on.

Rushing over to Riker's prone form, he began speaking to him. "I'm going to move this debris off of your legs, but I am going to tell you right now, your legs are severely injured. I am going to wrap them up very quickly and then we are going to get out of here. Alright?" Riker nodded.

Counting silently to three, Picard shoved the turbo lift door with all of his might and it slid off of Riker, who let out a muted cry. Quickly finding the wounds, he used the helmsman's shirt to tie tourniquets on both of Riker's legs, which he now saw were fractured in several places. He didn't have the expertise to properly re-set the bones, which would require surgery, so he settled for a large makeshift splint using two flexible metal supports from the former turbo lift wall. "The pain is very great, isn't it?" Picard asked Riker, looking at him.

Riker nodded, but said nothing. Picard smiled. "Don't be alarmed," he said, pulling out his phaser, and tapping at the settings. "I'm going to set this to a low stun setting, Captain…and then I am going to shoot you in the legs. I realize it seems like adding insult to injury, but it will numb the pain for some time at least. Alright?" Riker nodded, and closed his eyes, as Picard fired the phaser slowly up and down the length of Riker's legs, he saw some of the suffering ease from the man's face.

"Thank you," Riker whispered. He pointed to the utility tunnel entrance. "Escape pod is that way…."

Picard shook his head. "Sorry, my friend. I said I would get you out of here, but it does us no good to leave only to have us all die at the hands of the Borg."

Riker struggled to sit up, but Picard pushed him back down gently. "What—what are you going to do?" asked Riker, confused.

Picard paused. "I am not sure you really want to know the details," he said patting Riker on the shoulder before standing up again. "As far as I know, it's never been done before. Sort of an experiment, you see."

Riker closed his eyes. "Oh no."

* * *

 ** _Enterprise_ Main ****sickbay**

The more pressure she was placed under the more efficiently Beverly Crusher performed. She thought of nothing but helping her patients, even though there were so many other things on the periphery of her mind. Thoughts of Wesley came and then were pushed firmly away. Patients streamed in, they were triaged, and then treated quickly and moved to recovered. Thankfully many of the _Hood's_ casualties were limited to very treatable injuries from smoke inhalation. Dr. LaForge had set up entire rooms on the sickbay level designed for decontamination and to treat those harmed by the toxins released by a dying ship.

She had been told that all escape pods had now been deployed from the _Hood_ , but many of these pods were destroyed by Borg weaponry even before reaching the Enterprise. Most of those who survived were now in sickbay, being triaged. And word was that Captain Riker had not yet been accounted for. An intruder alert had been announced just minutes ago, and it was assumed that there were Borg in Engineering. She tried not to think of Geordi, her friend, a gentle person who would now have to face those lifeless monstrosities.

She had no idea where Jean-Luc was, but she hoped that wherever he was, he was safe. She wondered if he knew, or if he had ever known, how much she cared for him. She hoped that he was with Jack, and that they were somehow making amends, before it was too late. And Wesley, was he still safe? Had the transporter scrambling field worked? She put these thoughts out of her mind, and kept them away from the pieces of her mind necessary to perform her job.

* * *

Deanna Troi sat on the bridge of the Enterprise. At that moment as the battle continued to rage around them, her only consolation was that she knew Will was still alive. She had heard him speaking to her across the expanse of space between the two ships. And even though the _Hood_ now spun slowly crippled with only one working nacelle, she knew that there was a chance he would make it. And now that she and a few others were aware that Picard had beamed over unexplainably to the Hood, she hoped that Will's chances of survival, and by extension, her own, had increased. Because she doubted that she would be able to survive without him.

* * *

 ** _Enterprise_** **Ten Forward**

Wesley had replicated several hundred pairs of pliers similar to the ones his father had given him, and had handed them out to the other kids. He had explained to them how to stop the Borg drones if they broke the barrier around Ten Forward, which so far they had not. He had explained to each of the other kids how to protect themselves in a calm and common sense way, just as his father had explained it to him and doing it in this way helped him to not be afraid.

The three security personnel who had been left inside Ten Forward with them, sat watching stoically. _They probably think I'm just some dumb kid_ , he thought to himself. But he didn't care, because if the security staff didn't know what to do if the Borg attacked, at least he would know. He felt a confidence he had never noticed before, and wondered if this was the way Captain Picard always felt.

He had even talked to his ex-girlfriend Anna a little bit, and they had even been able to laugh. For a while they sat together and she had held his hand. He knew it was because she was afraid they might not make it out of Ten Forward alive, but he didn't care.

He knew that his father would find a way to save them, especially if he was willing to work together with his Dad. If so, maybe they could find a way together to save everyone, just like they would have when they had been best friends so many years ago.

* * *

Wesley had been sitting on the floor hugging his knees to his chest, holding his tricorder in one hand and his pliers in the other. It was similar to how his mother sat when she needed to think, or to comfort herself. Periodically he would tense up when he heard a noise outside of Ten Forward, and then would relax only slightly when he realized it was a false alarm. Anna lay curled up on the floor nearby staring at her hands absently.

Suddenly they heard a scuffle and it was not a false alarm, it was real. The shots of phaser fire outside of Ten Forward made it clear that the Borg had found another way to reach him and the other children. It must have been the ship-wide pattern scrambling device that had failed. And the Borg must have beamed aboard in other areas of the ship. Why did they want to capture children? It made no sense to him, but why would they steal anyone's life away? As his mother would have said, it was all so senseless.

The three security officers who had been sitting at the bar waiting, rushed to the door at the sound of phaser fire. Wesley, Anna, and some of the other teenagers leapt to their feet, and to their horror, the corridor outside grew deadly quiet. Then they heard a faint whirring sound, and from the space between the floor and the bottom of the once sealed door, came a thin red ray of light, a laser beam which seemed to sweep the area looking for them. Some of the children began to scream, and Wesley and the other older kids began to try and calm them, but it was no use there was a rising panic.

"They're going to get us!" someone screamed. Wesley suddenly felt that he would wet his pants as though he were a toddler, but he tried to stay calm and told himself it was just fear trying to paralyze him. He had to keep moving to stay alive.

An explosion burst the doorway inward and sent the three security officers into the air, and Wesley knew that they were dead almost instantly. Two Borg drones stood now, just inside the doorway. They mechanically surveyed the room, before taking jerking footsteps into the room. They halted again, and a red flash of laser passed over his cheek. Wesley froze. Should he wait for them to come near him or run at them? He remembered what Captain Picard had said, about the drones being too strong to fight head on.

A Borg with a large drill attached to its arm began to step toward a small boy who Wesley knew was about eight. He and Anna ran toward the boy protectively at that same instant, and a second Borg stepped forward and then slowly swept a strange purple plasma current from its barrel-shaped arm onto the floor and toward Wesley and Anna.

Wesley fell, his legs instantly growing numb, and he flailed on the floor, dropping his tricorder. Anna leapt on the back of the first Borg who now dropped the little boy from its grasp and struggled to throw Anna off of it. She reached around to the Borg's forehead with her pliers and yanked at its cortical node. The node went grey, and the Borg staggered, throwing Anna off of its back and across the room, before it sank to its knees and then dissolved into a small pile of ash. Wesley's friend hit the far wall, and slid down to the floor limply.

* * *

"Anna!" Wesley screamed frantically, but he still could not get up off of the floor. He dragged his legs behind him. The second Borg who had emitted the purple bolt of lightning approached Wesley. One boy threw a chair at the Borg, which glanced of its armor with an odd hollow noise, but failed to deter it. He screamed at it to get away from him, but if it heard or understood him, it did not stop. It bent down with an almost human hand as if to touch his face, and its own pale expression now appeared alive with interest.

He gripped the pliers tightly in his right hand as its head came closer to his own, and finally he saw that it was not reaching for him at all, but for his tricorder, which he had dropped moments earlier. As it picked up the tricorder, its lips curled upward in an almost childlike look of wonder, which was when Wesley, remembering Anna, thrust the pliers upward and fiercely twisted off the Borg's cortical node. He rolled out of the way as a grey cloud of ash sprayed over his body and the Borg disappeared.

He heard shots and looked toward the door, as the third Borg fell. He sat up, and saw the security team burst through. Walker strode into the room, holstering an odd looking pistol. Seeing Wesley, he rushed over and lifted him to his feet. "It's alright kid," said Walker, grabbing him into a hug. "It's over," he said.

* * *

 _ **USS Hood** _

Jean-Luc Picard sat at the helm of the _USS Hood_ and pondered the situation before him. Looking at the static-filled main viewer he saw that the _Enterprise_ did not have long, and the chances of him doing anything to stop its demise were slim at best. If Data were with him, the odds would have been clearly explained to him. In front of him hung the menacing Borg lead cube, the two flanking cubes now on either side of it.

Hearing Riker's labored breathing behind him, he was spurred on.

"Picard to Captain Crusher," he said, activating his communicator.

 _"_ _Jean-Luc!"_ came the frantic reply. " _The Hood is going to blow, you've got to get off of there now,"_ he shouted.

"Captain Riker is with me and he is alive, but not so well I am afraid," Picard said. "He needs the kind of medical attention that I cannot provide."

 _"_ _We can't beam you out, we need our shields up."_

"I know, Jack," he said grimly.

 _"Take the escape pod designated for the Captain,"_ said Jack. _"We'll bring you aboard."_

"I've got less than ten minutes, Jack. I need you to do something for me."

Picard heard muffled swearing on the other end. _"Jean-Luc, I don't have time for this…our shields are failing."_

"Then trust me," said Picard calmly. "Because I have a plan."

Jack paused. _"I'm listening."_

"I am transmitting coordinates to you now. I need you to move the _Enterprise_ to these coordinates, directly in front of the _Hood."_

 _"_ _Putting us directly in between you and the lead Borg cube? Why?!"_

"From that position in front of the _Hood_ , and on my mark Jack, have Data go to maximum warp to the second set of coordinates I am sending you right now."

 _"_ _And what about you and Riker? What are you going to do, commit suicide with the Hood? Let me talk to Riker!"_

Picard turned around to glance quickly at Riker. The man was slipping again into unconsciousness, his head lolled to the side. "Stay with me, Riker!"

 _"_ _Jean-Luc, get in the goddamn escape pod!"_ Jack was screaming.

"No," said Picard. "Let me know when you are in position and just wait for my signal. Picard out."

* * *

" _Warp core shut down in five minutes_ ," announced the computer.

Picard typed a quick program into the helm controls, and then got up swiftly. He walked to Riker, who looked up at him in confusion and pain. His face was pale and sweaty, and his eyes were clouded. Picard re-reset his phaser for stun and numbed Riker's legs again. He leaned down. "A little better?" He covered his face with his shirt, coughing through the black smoke.

Riker's slowed breathing was the only answer this time.

"Good. We've got to finish the rest of this down below," Picard said, and grabbed Riker by the shoulders. "Sorry about this." He started to drag Riker toward one of the utility tubes. He was dismayed at how heavy the man was, because at this rate they would never make it to their destination. "What's the fastest way to the aft shuttle bay?" he asked Riker, already winded.

Riker blinked at him, growing more alert for the moment. "We've got no turbo lift…down two levels there is an auxiliary transporter. But I can't climb a ladder, Picard. It's not going to work," he said, and Picard could see that Riker was beginning to fade.

Picard grabbed Riker's face in his hand and squeezed. "Wake up, dammit. Do it for your wife, if not for yourself," he snapped.

"Deanna," said Riker drowsily. Inhaling, Picard pulled Riker's arms up and then ducked underneath him quickly and then with a grunt pulled him over his shoulders.

Mindlessly he staggered to the utility tunnel and said to Riker, "hold on around my shoulders or we will both fall," he warned. Inching his way down the ladder with Riker latched around him seemed to take forever, and his whole body was screaming with the effort when they finally reached the deck below. He heaved labored breaths as he looked questioningly at Riker.

"Down that end of the hallway…transporter pad," pointed Riker. Wordlessly, Picard gritted his teeth and dragged Riker in the direction he had indicated. Sure enough in a narrow alcove was a small cargo transporter pad. He dragged Riker onto it and then punched the controls, hoping they would arrive in the correct shuttle bay. The transporter whined and for a moment he pictured his molecules ending up back on the bridge or some other even more unfortunate place.

 _"_ _Three minutes until warp core shutdown,"_ said the computer as the beam activated.

"Aha," Picard breathed, as they materialized in the shuttle bay. He dragged Riker toward three parked shuttles. "Riker, quickly; which ones have warp capability?" He wiped sweat from his brow, and struggled to catch his breath.

Riker's head rolled to the side. "Type 6…the _Galileo_ ," he murmured. Gritting his teeth again, Picard grabbed Riker underneath his armpits and dragged him up the ramp of the shuttlecraft Galileo. He left the man on the shuttle floor. There was no time to make sure Riker was comfortable. No time at all.

He quickly powered up the shuttle, typed in coordinates, and checked the power on the small tube-like warp nacelles on either side of the craft. Riker was right, they had full warp capability. He gasped for adequate breath, but then laughed realizing his goal was in sight. "Wait here," he said to Riker and ran back down the ramp.

* * *

" _Two minutes…."_ Running to a computer control terminal, he hardly heard the ship's computer speaking anymore.

Jack's voice jerked him back to reality. _"We're in position, Jean-Luc. Now what? We're taking heavy fire still."_

Picard pulled up the viewer and could see the Enterprise now hanging in space in front of the Hood. Beyond them lay the immense Borg ship, which was using its cutting tool to eat through the hull of the Enterprise. Typing into the terminal frantically as sweat ran stingingly into his eyes, he whispered "hold on," over and over.

"Please warp drive… be online," he murmured. He knew that it was a long shot, for the _Hood_ only had one operational warp nacelle left.

 _"_ _One minute until warp core shut down…evacuation is recommended…."_

"Jack, do you have the coordinates?"

 _"_ _Yes, Data is standing by. Just say when old friend…."_

Picard's hand hovered over the controls. "One, two…three, mark!" he said slamming his hand down on the console. He gripped the edges of the console, as the world suddenly when spinning out of control, and then instantly the _Hood_ warped to where the _Enterprise_ had been, and in the same instant the _Enterprise_ was gone, having warped out of the area as planned.

Looking up at the view screen, he instantly saw the after-image of where they had been, and it was as though by a miracle the _Hood_ appeared to be in two places at once. The Borg ship was firing on the coordinates they had just warped from, believing apparently at least for an instant that the _Hood_ was still there. And the _Enterprise_ was safely away—at least it appeared that way.

His fingers flew across the console again. The computer spoke up again. " _Collision course laid in. Collision course will initiate in 15 seconds,"_ said the computer. Picard sprinted for the shuttle leaping in with such velocity that he slammed into the pilot's seat. He quickly checked the coordinates again and then opened the shuttle bay doors.

If everything worked as he had planned, they would arrive in the shuttle next to the _Enterprise_ three parsecs away from their current position. If nothing worked as he planned, he and Riker would die. And if it was only halfway successful, perhaps they would take a Borg ship with them.

Riker groaned on the floor of the shuttle craft. "Picard…insane."

 _"_ _three…two…one…"_ said the computer, and as Picard touched his finger lightly to the navigational controls everything went white.

* * *

Q watched with fascination as the _Hood_ went into warp at the same instant as the tiny shuttlecraft carrying Picard and Riker also went into warp exiting from the innards of the _Hood_. The _Hood_ warped into the lead Borg ship, and the collision of the _Hood_ , the cube and the warp field created a singularity with an immense gravitational pull which drew in the other two cubes destroying all three. And Picard shot free out the back door.

 _"_ _Hmm…what luck,"_ remarked Q.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

* * *

 **Several minutes earlier on board the** ** _Enterprise_** **...**

As the Borg cutting weaponry finally pierced through the weakened shields into the top of the saucer, an electrical fire broke out on the bridge. From the main science station a crewman screamed, as he was struck by an agonizing shock of electricity. As he fell to the deck twitching, the tactical the officer Ensign Diaz dropped down to his aid. "Lt. Cholo is down, Captain," Diaz cried out, as a crewmember rushed to tactical to replace her.

"Get that fire under control," Jack shouted, as smoke continued to billow in from the ceiling, quickly filling the bridge with a grey haze. The air became thick quickly, and crew members including Deanna Troi from the _USS Hood_ leapt into action, as they tried their best to put out the fire with suppressant sprays.

"We're in position, Captain", the helm officer announced, and then sagged in her seat unconscious from smoke inhalation. Data stood up from Ops, and carefully picked up the helm officer, gently laying her on the floor. He quickly slid into the vacant seat at the helm and set the coordinates, Captain Picard had transmitted.

Jack sat forward in his seat, his eyes watering from the stinging smoke. "Bridge to sick bay! I need an emergency medical team up here! Half of my people are incapacitated and the bridge is on fire. Getting difficult to breathe up here..." he choked.

* * *

In sickbay Beverly Crusher raised her head from compressing the wound of an injured crewperson. Jack sounded desperate, and ill from the smoke filtering onto the bridge. Her eyes met Dr. LaForge's. Geordi had been injured down in engineering trying to fight off an attacking Borg and was currently alive but non responsive and in a coma. The Borg who had attacked him had been injured by the security team but had successfully transported back to its ship, taking Geordi's Visor along with it. So she knew that Dr. LaForge knew what was going through her mind better than anyone else right now as he regarded her with a quietly distraught expression.

Minutes ago she received a call from Walker indicating that Ten Forward had been secured, none of the children had been abducted, and that Wesley was safe. Tragically, one of the other children had been killed by a Borg soldier. She tried not to think about that. Walker had told her he would stay with Wesley and the rest of the children until it was "all over".

Unfortunately, no one knew just how all of this was going to end, or what it would mean when it was all over. It was only a small consolation knowing that Wesley was now with someone who loved him, but it _was_ something. Now, her instinct told her to go up to the bridge.

Fleetingly she thought about Jean-Luc and realized she had no idea of his whereabouts. Was he on the bridge? In fact the only thing she had heard since she had left him standing in the corridor was that it had been his plan to shield the children in Ten Forward. And it was perhaps because of his quick thinking Wesley was still on board and was safe with Walker. But where was Jean-Luc? She felt an enormous feeling of dread; a feeling that he was going to do something very risky. It was too overwhelming right now to consider fully. She had to concentrate on the wounded people on this ship, and not her emotions.

Dr. LaForge seemed to understand the message in her gaze and he nodded. She moved into action. "Andy please take over here for me," she said to a nurse, grabbing her med kit. "Alyssa, take the oxygen masks and burn unit, and I need you and you too," she said pointing to two orderlies. "Grab an anti-grav stretcher please," she added before rushing out of sickbay.

* * *

Once on the bridge Crusher was shocked to see the damage and could barely make out anything through the smoke. She immediately began to attend to Lieutenant Cholo who had been electrocuted. Burns covered his arms and neck, and he moaned in agony. Quickly administering him a sedative, she instructed the orderlies to place him on the stretcher. "Get him down into intensive care immediately," she said, before surveying the bridge for other wounded. _He's not here…_

"Switch to aft viewer" Jack was saying. The _Hood_ now appeared hanging in space lopsided and listing to one side, with the portside nacelle blackened and inoperative. Yet the damaged ship seemed to slowly be turning the front of its saucer to face the back of the _Enterprise_. Deanna Troi sat back down in the command center, trying to catch her breath, as she too stared in shock at the disturbing sight. She could sense that Will was still alive, but he was very weak.

" _What_ is he doing?" Jack glanced to his right with alarm as Beverly walked swiftly by him and crouched down next to the Ensign at the helm. When he had asked for a medical team, he hadn't wanted Beverly to come up here. It wasn't safe, but now that she was here he couldn't very well order her to stop doing her job, which was to help him and his bridge crew stay alive.

Nurse Ogawa rushed over to him, handing Jack an oxygen mask, which he placed over his face, and he inhaled some relief into his lungs. "Thanks, Alyssa," he said. Ogawa moved to Counselor Troi and gave her an oxygen mask as well, which she gratefully accepted, as another explosion rocked the bridge.

"Shields at 15 percent, Captain," said Data with typical calm. He paused. "Sir, sensors show the _Hood_ is powering up its warp engines."

"There is _no way_ he has full warp capability," said Jack disbelievingly. "What's his heading?"

Data hesitated slightly, the only indication of his genuine surprise. "The _Hood_ appears to be on a course directly in line with our position, sir," said Data.

Jack struggled to remain calm. A few minutes earlier, Picard had asked Jack to trust in his mysterious plan. But was his plan to warp into the back of the _Enterprise_?

Jack took a deep breath from the oxygen mask. "We're in position, Jean-Luc. Now what? We're taking heavy fire still," he said.

From her crouching position behind Data, Beverly froze at the sound of Jack's words. Her patient now stable, she nodded to nurse Ogawa, and slowly got to her feet, and backed up toward the command center, staring wide eyed at the view screen image of the _Hood_. Jean-Luc was on the _Hood_. Why? Stunned, she turned around and walked back to sit down in the command center next to Jack.

" _Jack, do you have the coordinates?"_ At the sound of Jean-Luc's voice, she reached over to take Jack's hand, still staring ahead at the view of the crippled _Hood_.

Jack took a deep breath and squeezed Beverly's hand tightly. _"_ _Yes, Data is standing by. Just say when old friend…."_

 _"_ _Ready Data?" Jack prompted._

 _"_ _Aye sir."_

 _Picard's voice was suddenly the only noise on the bridge._ _"One, two…three, mark!"_

As the _Enterprise_ went into warp, the crew watched with a collective gasp as the image on the view screen erupted into a burst of white and the _Hood_ simply disappeared.

* * *

 **Inside a Warp bubble…**

He was floating in a sea of white, staring upward when Q floated into view. Q's star-like shape bobbed up and down, and somehow even in his non-humanoid form he seemed to mock Picard.

"How incredibly creative, Picard. A Q might not have done it better. A slow and ponderous way to create a black hole, but impressive nonetheless, for a human."

Picard said nothing for a moment. "A black hole?"

"Just a temporary one…lucky for you it swallowed itself up along with the Borg ships and the Hood. Converging two warp fields together while the third moves away in the opposite direction. The Borg never saw it coming! How clever," said Q.

Picard's brain felt like mush. He hadn't intended to create a black hole, but he had intended to destroy the lead ship. "Just wanted to escape..." he murmured. "Am I alive? Where is Riker?"

"Riker is still alive, as are you…but satisfy my curiosity, Picard. Why not simply use your remaining power to resolve the Borg situation? What you did won't slow their current assault on humanity..."

Picard felt as though his body and mind were being stretched thin. Were they still in warp? Had Q stopped time just to badger him about his motives? He wanted to go home…to the _Enterprise_. "Don't need it anymore," he mumbled.

"You don't need what? The power of Q? Oh, how rich, Picard! Why just days ago, you would have given up your first born son to return to the Continuum…perhaps a poor choice of words on my part."

"Why didn't you tell me about Wesley? Why didn't you tell me about my son? Why did you keep the truth from me?"

Q's shape twirled around and the white became even more vibrant. "Isn't it obvious, Picard? You would have left us prematurely, just when you were becoming interesting."

"You lied…."

"Do you think that was the only time we lied to you? Oh come now, Picard. No one ever said omnipotence made one honest."

Picard shook his head, or at least perceived that he was shaking his head. If he still had one. "It doesn't matter anymore. Now I can be with my son."

"Not if you still plan on returning to the Continuum. You still have one chance to return to us, Picard. Why don't you use it?"

"I don't want it anymore, I told you."

"But Picard, there is something you are forgetting. We made a deal," said Q, whose disembodied voice seemed to take on an edge suddenly. "You must not forfeit your last chance, Picard. There will be dire consequences for you…and quite possibly for me and all Q, if you give it up."

Picard stared at Q, whose vibrancy seemed to lessen suddenly. "Why?"

"Just take my word for it. You would be a fool not to hold onto this power while the Borg…and others, are on the move. Until next time…"

* * *

"Position?" Jack stood up shakily and walked forward toward Data as the Enterprise dropped out of warp at the designated coordinates.

"We are in Klingon territory, Captain…approximately three parsecs away from our last position."

"Are the Borg in pursuit?"

"No sir…however, Captain sensors are picking up a singularity at our previous coordinates."

"A singularity…you mean like a black hole?!"

Data turned around in his chair. "Yes… but it is now gone, sir."

"What about the Borg ships and the _Hood_?" Jack asked as Data turned back around and typed into his console.

"Undetectable, sir…."

Jack turned around again, his eyes meeting Beverly's who simply stared at him in shock. Deanna Troi stared at the screen as though she were searching for something that was there but not visible.

Jack couldn't believe that Picard had really done it. He had warped into the Borg ships with the _Hood_ and killed himself and Riker in the process. It was unbelievable. Unfathomable.

"Captain," reported Diaz from tactical. "A small ship has just dropped out of warp. It appears disabled," she said.

"On screen," said Jack in a barely audible tone. What now? On the view screen a Starfleet shuttlecraft tumbled end over end toward them slowly. He stepped forward haltingly. "Magnify…."

"Sir, it's the Galileo shuttlecraft registered to the _USS Hood_!"

Jack tried to keep his heart from beating out of his chest as he asked the next question. "Life signs…."

"Two, sir," said Data.

Jack clapped his hands together. "Son of a bitch, he did it!" He shouted laughing. He slammed his hand on Data's shoulder. Data simply tilted his head upward, now used to intense human reactions.

Jack backed up from the screen. "I don't know how, but he did…."he whispered still in awe at the image before him.

He turned around to find Beverly and Deanna hugging each other tightly, and laughing with relief. They didn't even know each other, but now none of those barriers mattered. All that mattered was that for the moment they had survived.

"Lock onto them with a tractor beam, bring them in close and then beam them directly to sick bay," Jack ordered. "Bring the Galileo into the main shuttle bay."

* * *

Yar knelt in Engineering next to the Borg soldier she had incapacitated. The Engineer had been severely injured by the other Borg, which had beamed back to its cube. Now, she considered what she might do with this one, if anything. And then, an old acquaintance appeared next to her.

"Considering your dastardly plans again? What is it that you continue to hold against the Earth? It is after all, the original home of your race," Q reminded her.

"But it wasn't my home, was it? The dregs of the Federation abandoned us on Turkana to be thieves, rapists and murderers…and so that is what we all became."

"Then you should have thanked us for taking you away from that horrible place," said Q. "Instead of becoming the ungrateful creature you are now."

"You talk as though you had nothing to do with how I turned out, Q. And do I detect a note of fear in your tone, Q? Have I won our wager, yet?"

"No, this isn't fear, Yar, it is disdain. And no, you haven't won yet, and I dare say you will _not_."

"We'll see," she said with an easy smile.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

* * *

 **Somewhere deep in the Delta Quadrant...**

Something was different. The world had gone still. Had the ship stopped moving? Where were they? He blinked in the dim light. Shapes of other children lay around him, resting, making no sound but shallow breathing. There were very few children left in the room. All of the remaining kids, seemed to be between 8 and 11 years old, around Seth's age and similar to his small but athletic size. No one spoke of the other children. It was understood that the ones who had gone before, would never be back. Seth and the remaining kids did not know whether the missing kids had met the minimal requirements for assimilation and had been put to work elsewhere in the immense cube, or had been killed. Such things were beyond the control of Seth and the others, so they tried not to think of it.

He began to shiver reflexively once he heard the familiar trudging coming toward him. Seth was lifted off of the floor abruptly. There were two robo men, one on either side of him. He was far too weak to protest, or even to say a word. The creatures stomped relentlessly forward on metal grating under their boots. Seth was secure in their grip, and even had he been able to squirm out of their grasp, they would have recaptured him with little effort.

Unable to do much else, he craned his neck and looked up above. Instead of metal grating, instead of thousands of scaffold platforms above and below him, he saw a ceiling of sorts. They were leaving the cube. They stopped outside of a hatch, and he heard a zap and felt a small electric shock as the creatures activated a bluish white shield. The hatch opened, and for the first time in days, he was greeted by sunlight. Not the kind of warm sunlight he had grown up knowing, but a reddish sunlight. Even through the protective shield, Seth could smell ash, and soot, and feel a intense heat. He strained to look, and off in the distance he thought he could see a black and red shifting landscape. For minutes it seemed they continued to march along a narrow bridge. In front of them lay an expanse of grey, and a door slid open silently.

The Borg stepped inside a new corridor without hesitation, and began walking steadily toward a destination, of which only they were aware. Then, as they slowed outside of a new room, something fired within him. He kicked his legs wildly, and clawed at the smooth armor. The creatures were not deterred from their imperative, nor did they let him go, even as he fought to free himself. They had calculated the exact pressure needed to retain the child, and did so.

Again a door slid open silently before them, and they entered. The room was so dimly lit, that he could see little if anything. Suddenly Seth heard a voice, the voice of the many he had heard for days on the cube ship. This voice was smoother, and instead of a monotone, it spoke with confidence and intelligence. As the voice spoke, two green lights blinked into view.

 _"Subject number 80026500, catalogued origin, planet 756 in star system 011, catalogued species...hybrid humanoid. You have been selected for assimilation. Your biologics will be incorporated into our own systems and will assist us to sustain and improve our systems indefinitely, or as long as your biological systems continue to function within acceptable parameters of efficiency. Your cooperation is required to implement these improvements. We are Borg."_

* * *

 _ **USS Enterprise**_

Main sick bay was in flux, and it had really never been this crowded. The recovery beds were full, as were most of the surgical recovery rooms. Patients with minor injuries had already been discharged, because there was simply not enough room to keep them there. The injured from the _Hood_ made up most of the casualties, and there were many of them. The minor sickbays were also in overflow mode, but overall there was a sense that they were out of the worst of it. Word had gotten around that the three Borg ships had been destroyed somehow, and it took at least some of the sadness away from the fact that the Hood had also been lost in the battle.

Wesley Crusher sat cross-legged on the floor next to one of the bio beds. Silently he watched the movement around him with no obvious emotion. When his mom and dad entered sick bay looking for him, he was unable to feel the elation he knew he should have felt. His dad came over and bent down to hug him, and he almost didn't feel it as his dad kissed him on the forehead, and didn't really see the tears in Jack's eyes.

His mother was yelling orders at medical staff around her, as Captain Riker had just been beamed in and was being moved into the surgical area. She stole a few glances at Wesley, and rushed over to him, grasped his face and kissed him without a word before rushing back to prepare for surgery with Dr. LaForge. His dad knelt down to talk to him, but he couldn't digest anything of what was being said, and seeming to sense this, his dad stood up and then despite looking worse for wear, engaged in an animated conversation with Walker. They were gesturing wildly, laughing and talking about Captain Picard—something strange that he had done. But Wesley wasn't really listening.

He leaned back against the wall and stretched his legs out straight. If he had been faster he could have helped Anna, but he had been too slow and now she was dead. He knew that logically it was stupid to blame himself, but this was simply how he felt, and as painful as it was, it was how he wanted to feel for now.

* * *

When Picard woke up in a sick bay recovery room he had a splitting headache. He tried to call out for water, but his voice was very hoarse and his throat was raw. Perhaps it had been a combination of the physical exertion and the smoke he had inhaled aboard the _Hood_. He thought of Riker and imagined his legs being repaired somewhere in surgery. If Riker was lucky, Beverly would be his surgeon. He smiled, thinking of Beverly. Soon he hoped to see her. Vaguely he wondered if she was still angry at him, and his smile faded slightly. He had told her that he loved her. It was true, but his declarations seemed somewhat silly now, after all that had happened since. Hopefully she would not hold his immature words against him forever.

A nurse came to the doorway of his room. "Can I get you anything, sir?" the young man asked.

"Yes, I would like some water," he said hoarsely. "And…could someone take my dog to go to the bathroom? She has been holding it in for some time now, which is really not fair to her; Borg attack or no…."

The nurse shifted his feet. "Um…is she friendly?"

Picard sat up a little in bed and shrugged. "Well, she has only bitten me once, so…yes?"

The nurse's eyes widened. "I will send someone from security, sir." He turned away to grab a pitcher of water, pouring some into a glass.

Picard smiled and took the glass of water from the nurse. "Thank you." The nurse turned to leave. "Are you taking visitors, sir?"

Picard raised his eyebrows. "Someone wants to visit me? Yes, by all means, please send them in," he said.

Straightening in the recovery bed, he was pleased to see Wesley walk into the room. But the boy had a very solemn expression on his face, and continued to walk into the room silently until he was standing up against the bed. He stared down at the bed covers, still not uttering a word.

"Are you alright, Wesley?" Picard asked with concern.

"You were right about the cortical node," said Wesley quietly. "I killed one. I killed a Borg."

Picard reached out and touched his hand lightly. "Wesley I am so sorry that you had to do that. I had hoped that the field would hold up…."

"It did," said Wesley dully. "But they found another way to get inside."

Picard withdrew his hand. "Wesley, I wish that I could have been there to help you." He frowned and tried to look more closely at Wesley's expression. "There is something you are not telling me, isn't there?"

Wesley swallowed and looked away. "They killed Anna. She tried to stop them."

"She must have been very brave, Wesley…"

"She was…." He unconsciously moved closer to the bed, not knowing what else to do. Picard moved over slightly, and Wesley sat down. Picard hesitantly reached his arm around Welsey's shoulders and Wesley leaned into him laying back. Picard lay there stiffly, not knowing what else he was supposed to do. He felt the boy begin to shake and to his surprise and dismay he looked down to see that Wesley was now crying softly. Picard squeezed his arm around the boy tighter, and looked away.

* * *

Deanna Troi looked down at Riker. The dark circles under his eyes and his sallow coloring showed just how close he had come to death. _Thank the goddess for Captain Picard,_ thought Deanna. To think that a person who appeared so self-involved could act so selflessly was nothing short of miraculous to her. Now Riker lay in surgical recovery, and Doctor Crusher had informed her that he would regain the use of his legs fully. It would take some time, but he would get better.

As she looked down at him and squeezed his hand, his eyes fluttered a few times and finally opened. He blinked and moved his head to regard her. "Where am I?" he asked.

"You're in the _Enterprise_ sick bay," she said with a wide smile.

Riker closed his eyes again, and then opened them again and began to laugh slowly. She watched him with curious amusement. "What?" she asked.

He continued to laugh, and she looked at his vital signs, not sure exactly what they said. His thoughts were clouded from her, possibly due to the anesthesia. Perhaps they had given him a drug that made him very giddy. "Picard…." he swallowed, sobering.

"We found you both floating in the Galileo, both unconscious, but alive. All three Borg ships are missing and presumably destroyed."

"What happened?"

She stroked his hair. "To tell you the truth, no one knows exactly, except for Captain Picard."

"Oh, he's taken his rank back then?" Riker said with a knowing smile.

She laughed. "I don't know, but the title seems to fit him now more than ever."

"I wish I could remember…."

"You'll remember in time. For now…rest."

He suddenly lifted his head. "My legs…."

"They were fractured very badly, Will, however, Doctor Crusher says you will heal completely in time."

He didn't want to ask about his ship, at least not directly. Or how many of the Hood's crew were lost. He gripped Deanna's hand, and closed his eyes.

* * *

When Picard awoke in sick bay, Wesley was gone and the room was dark. He heard the familiar voices of Jack and Beverly talking outside of his room. Despite everything that had just happened he felt an ugly and intense jealousy slip into his mind. He was happy that they were alive and well, but he realized that he didn't want to face them. Q had succeeded once again to place doubt in his mind about his purpose; and about whether he truly belonged with humans. And the prospect of Yar's involvement made him truly fearful for the very first time since his return. What did the Q expect of him now?

As he sat on the edge of his bed in his hospital clothes an immense feeling of loneliness washed over him. He reached under his shirt and pulled the pulmonary monitor off of his chest and placed it on the bed. It immediately began beeping in alarm. He stood up and quickly left the room.

Jack and Beverly stopped talking, and turned around. He gazed at them for a moment and they at him, and it appeared neither Jack nor Beverly knew quite what to say to him. He turned to leave wordlessly, but Jack called out to him.

"Captain," Jack said, walking up behind him.

Jean-Luc turned back around, and unable to look directly at Beverly for the moment, he focused on Jack. His friend appeared confused. He couldn't blame him; it was the second time in just days that he had returned from nowhere, and yet so much had happened between him and Jack.

"Hello, Jack."

Jack looked over at Beverly searching for support.

Beverly took a halting step forward. "Jean-Luc, talk to us. How are you feeling?"

Picard lifted his chin and regarded them both silently. Just a day ago, they had feared him. And now instead of fear, their eyes held a renewed affection for him, and a hope that he shared this feeling. But he realized he was still different from them, whether he shared such feelings or not. Separate. As long as he had this decision to make, as long as he was caught between humanity and the Q Continuum he would stand apart from these people. The presence of Yar on board this ship now nagged at him more than anything else. He needed to be alone, and away from distractions; he needed to think.

He felt a pressure behind his eyes, and pressed his fingertips to his forehead. He gritted his teeth. "Where is Yar?" he blurted out.

Beverly flinched. "What? Why?"

"She's meeting with Walker," said Jack. "I'm not exactly in the loop when it comes to those two, you know that Jean-Luc."

He nodded distractedly, and rubbed his eyes again. "I'm glad to see you both." He forced a smile. "Really, I am."

Jack caught him around the shoulders as he walked away. "Jean-Luc, thank you, for what you did today. I'm so sorry about the way I acted before," he said in a low voice and suddenly embraced Picard tightly. It seemed for a few moments that Jack would not let go of him. Over Jack's shoulder, Beverly met his eyes. It was a complicated look that he did not fully understand. Feeling emotionally empty inside, he mechanically brought his arms around Jack. He felt Jack's tears on his cheek before he pulled away.

"Jack, you don't have to apologize for anything. We both said and did things that perhaps we shouldn't have…that's all."

"Jean-Luc, that's _not_ all…I am trying to connect with you here."

Picard looked away, just as Walker entered sick bay. "Look who's awake!" Walker said happily and stepped to Picard's side clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Jean-Luc, I never should have doubted you."

Picard ducked out from under his friend's arm. "Where is she? Where is Yar?"

Walker studied his friend's face with concern. Jean-Luc was agitated, that much was clear. But he was also appeared fearful, at a time when everyone else was still basking in the glow of having narrowly escaped with their lives. "In her quarters…I think," Walker said slowly. "That seemed to be where she was headed a few minutes ago. Why?" he asked curiously.

Picard shook his head, and moved past his friends. "Listen, I… I need to go and think. I have decisions to make," he said distractedly, backing toward the door.

Beverly stepped forward. "What kinds of decisions, Jean-Luc? We want to help you…."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, you don't understand. There is nothing you can do to help me. I need to be alone to think it all through."

Beverly crossed her arms and glanced at Walker.

Walker sighed. "Jean-Luc, we're not trying to crowd you, but we care about you. And…unfortunately your alone time is going to have to wait, my friend. Admiral Nechayev has demanded a conference with us."

"I have no intention on speaking with that woman, Walker."

Jack laughed. "Jean-Luc, we can all relate to your dislike of meetings, but she's still your commanding officer. Come on up to the ready room. I promise it won't take long, and then you can go about your other business…of making decisions," he said with a smile. Beverly shot him a look.

Picard nodded slowly. "Fine," he agreed.

"Great. See you up on the bridge then," Jack said patting Picard on the back as he passed.

* * *

After Walker and Jack had left, Picard turned to Beverly and she seemed to hesitate, before moved closer to him.

To his surprise, she took his hand in hers, and held it very tightly. "What are you thinking about?" she asked. "Those decisions you have to make? Why won't you just tell me what they are Jean-Luc? I told you that I want to help you," she said.

He shook his head, staring at her in a way that made her slightly uncomfortable. "I should go." He pressed his lips together, as if holding something back.

She held fast to his hand. "I just want to talk to you for a minute before your meeting. Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"Because I can't just have a normal conversation with you."

She laughed softly. "Why?"

He faced her directly. "Because when you speak to me, when you are this physically close to me…I have difficulty focusing on your words."

She straightened, feeling suddenly exposed under his gaze. "Oh?"

"I meant what I said back in the corridor when the Borg first attacked. I do love you," he insisted. "I know I sounded rather silly, but it was how I felt…how I feel."

She looked at him searchingly. There was something about him that was still very unfamiliar, but he was being honest with her. "I know. I believe you," she said.

"You have to let me show you, Beverly," he said with sudden urgency gripping her hand almost too tightly.

She blushed and lowered her voice. "Show me?"

"Yes," he said moving in closer. "I want to be with you, and show you how I feel for you."

She used the opportunity to move slightly away from him. She could feel the heat of his body, and she felt somewhat lightheaded. "Jean-Luc, so much has happened recently," she said, trying to be the voice of reason. "I think that we should take things slow for a number of reasons."

"I'll do anything that you suggest...I just keep having these feelings. I'm not used to them. I don't know what to do," he said plaintively. He was grateful Beverly was distracting him from his concerns about Yar, but at the moment, he felt overwhelmed in her presence.

His sincerity was tangible and moved her. She touched the side of his face gently. "I'd like to come and see you later," she said. "Will you let me?"

He nodded meeting her gaze, gripping her fingertips tightly in his palm. "Yes."

"Alright...I'll see you later then."

He backed away before turning and leaving sick bay.

* * *

"In light of your recent heroic actions against the Borg, Starfleet has asked me to confer upon you the prestigious Grankite Order of Tactics."

"No thank you," said Picard.

She paused, and her jaw tightened visibly. "You don't want the award?"

"No," he said.

Walker cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Jack's eyes widened in surprise.

Nechayev was unflappable, moving on the next subject. "Very well...Captain Picard, I am formally reinstating you to active duty. Given the state of emergency caused by the Borg, I am sure you understand. You are to report to Starbase 22 immediately to take command of the USS _Yamato_. Once all of this is over, it goes without saying that you will have your pick of starships to command."

"You mean if the Federation prevails against the Borg," he clarified.

"You don't sound as though you have much confidence in our chances, Captain," she said.

Picard laughed coarsely. "Do you?"

Nechayev scowled. "I will save my opinions for people who actually care to hear them Picard; perhaps the type of people who do not laugh at the possibility of tragedy befalling our beloved home planet. You have your orders, Picard."

"No."

Nechayev refocused her gaze through the view screen like a laser. "Are you _refusing_ to comply with my directive, Captain?"

"I have no intention of leaving my son, Admiral, so yes," he said simply. Jack shifted in his seat.

"With all due respect, Captain Picard, your _son_ appears to have done quite well without you for the past sixteen years," Nechayev snapped.

"That may be true...but I hear no respect in your tone Admiral. In fact I hear only disdain."

She bristled at that. "Just so we are clear...you are turning down command of a Galaxy Class Ship in order to be with your estranged son..."

"Yes," he said firmly. "And he's not estranged from me…at least he won't be…."

Jack shifted uneasily next to him.

"I could have you disciplined, Captain. Given your record I would hate to do so, but you give me little choice."

He stood up and before Jack could stop him, placed his communicator on the table. "I can make it easy on you Admiral and resign my commission."

Nechayev clasped her hands tightly on the table in front of her. "Are you sure you know what you are doing is right, Captain?"

"No...I am doing what I _feel_ is right."

"Let us hope you don't regret this, Picard." When he didn't answer she said, "And once you are a civilian, what makes you think I will allow you to remain on the _Enterprise?_ "

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you no longer need my assistance? Admiral, I am perfectly willing to continue providing any help I can in countering the Borg threat…but not as a Starfleet Captain."

She fixed him with a lethal stare, which after a few moments grew a bit less intense. "Very well. I cannot deny we are in need of your knowledge and experience when it comes to the Borg. But in every other respect you are now a civilian, _Mister_ Picard. I accept your resignation, albeit with _significant_ reservations. Nechayev out."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

* * *

Picard sat on the rocky hill cross legged, staring out into the San Francisco Bay. The breeze was cooler now that the sun was setting, and he shivered. He breathed in deeply, and for the first time in so very long, began to think about the Earth, and recognized that he missed it. It had been at least fifteen years since he had been to this particular spot, and he leaned back on his elbows, then laid his head back in the grass, allowing his thoughts take him away. This had been the last place they had made love, and over the last few days, the experience of it so long ago had begun to seem real again.

For years after his brief affair with Beverly he had blocked it out, rarely thought of their encounter. Certainly Wesley's birth had helped with that; the birth of their baby had only served to strengthen and protect Jack and Beverly's relationship from interference by outside interlopers like him. Or so he had believed at the time.

His imagination began to run away, and the memories of his time with her seemed enhanced this time, more intense. His breathing picked up a little, and he kept his eyes shut tightly, trying to immerse himself further in his imagination. Almost reflexively his hand moved from his chest down to his stomach and just rested there, as though waiting for the inevitable.

"Not quite as good as the real thing, isn't it?" a voice whispered in his ear.

Jean-Luc sat up abruptly, opening his eyes. The voice had been directly in his ear, and yet Q sat in human form several feet away, knees pulled up to his chest, the warm glow of the sunset on his face.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked over at Q, feeling his body growing cool immediately. The desire, still unalleviated, had disappeared for now.

Q turned his head toward Picard, a grin stretching his features. "The view of the ocean...I mean. Your holodecks really don't compare to the real thing. Of course you could re-create this scene using your own mind...with a bit of help from the power of the Q. You could even go back in time to that very day when she chose Jack over you. So many choices, Picard, so little time."

Picard sighed. "What do you want?"

"I don't think you quite understood the importance of our conversation yesterday."

"You mean when I was barely conscious and floating in a shuttle in some kind of alternate reality? I can assure you I understood very little at that time, Q. You still haven't answered my question."

Suddenly Q was sitting in exactly the same position, but directly in front of him. "I want you to abandon your carnal thoughts for one minute, even just one second...and consider Picard, the trouble that is descending upon us."

"Us? Surely you aren't lumping the Q in with the rest of us mortals? I had the distinct impression that us lesser species were on our own where it comes to the Borg."

"Things are changing, Picard, and quickly too." Q stood up, towering above him.

Picard looked up at him. "You're talking about Yar...why keep me in the dark up until now, Q?"

"You recognize her from your time together in the Continuum?"

"Of course I recognize her!" Picard jumped to his feet, and pushed Q in the chest, sending him flailing backwards. Instead of falling and rolling down the hill, Q winked out of existence, only to reappear behind Jean-Luc a moment later.

"What was that for? Your de-evolution from Q to human hasn't taken very long, Picard."

"Why is she here, Q? What does she want?"

"You _know_ what she wants! And she won't stop until she has it."

Picard laughed. "This is hilarious. Listen to yourself, Q, you sound desperate. _You_! Just stop her in her tracks! What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Play the game, as originally agreed, Picard. It's all I ask of you."

"I told you...I don't want to have this power anymore."

"Well...it will remain with you, whether you want it or not."

"Q," he began slowly. "If the power of the Q is what she wants, and you don't want her to somehow come into possession of it, _why_ don't you just take it back from me?"

"The Q gave you this chance to return to the Continuum, and...let's just say that we don't intend to take it back from you at this time."

"You're leaving something out, Q!"

"Well of course I am."

"Why was she forced to leave the Q?"

Q said nothing.

"Why is she here? Is she trying to return to the Continuum just as I wanted to?"

"Unlike you, Picard, there was never a time during her stay with the Q that she wanted to return to humanity. She has no allegiance to anyone but herself."

"Is she trying to re-join the Q or not? Why are you being so circumspect?"

Q's eyes narrowed. "You must not allow her to obtain your power. And... you must use your power one last time...it may be all that you truly have left, in every sense of the word."

Picard pointed at Q accusingly. "You are being deliberately vague, Q. I know what this is, and I don't want to be part of your experiments anymore. And whatever you have planned for Yar... don't involve me in that either. End program," he snapped, and began to walk away from Q as the black and gold grid reappeared.

"It is what _she_ has planned for all of us that should truly concern you, Jean-Luc," Q said. When Picard turned back, Q was gone.

* * *

"Beverly, can't you try and talk some sense into him? The Fleet needs him," Jack said, with a shake of his head. He sat on the couch in his quarters. Beverly stood several feet away from him, and he could tell she wanted to end the conversation as soon as possible, after learning that Jean-Luc had resigned from Starfleet. Jack figured if she was going to see Jean-Luc anyway, she might as well pass a message along for him.

"Whether or not he remains a Captain, we do need him," she agreed restlessly. "We all saw with our own eyes what he did to the Borg…and because of his experience with the Q, he knows things about them that we simply don't," she added. She began to feel uneasy with her own line of reasoning. "If he keeps his rank, will he be able to stay with us on the Enterprise? After all, Wesley is just getting to know him again."

"Oh, this is about Wesley...sure." He smiled tightly, looking up at her from his chair.

"What?" She crossed her arms.

He was silent for a few moments while he watched her. "Bev, I know what's going on here."

" _Nothing_ is going on here, Jack—"

"Okay, I know what is _about_ to happen between you two...is that better?"

"Oh, really? You can see the future now?"

"No, but maybe I've finally begun to learn from the past," he said quietly.

She stared at him stonily, but said nothing. This was a no-win scenario, she had learned over the years.

"I see the way he looks at you," Jack continued. "As long as you are here, he is never going to leave."

"And that's what you want, Jack? For him to leave us?"

"We've been over this before. You know he's my friend, but—"

"Whether he stays or leaves can't be about you and I, and salvaging our relationship. Don't you see that? It's what is best for Jean-Luc…and think about what will be best for Wesley."

"You think I haven't? And don't tell me you are trying to salvage anything we might have left! Because you're not."

Beverly exhaled tiredly. "Jack…."

He closed his eyes and composed himself. "Okay, okay…I won't start with that again. Please, just try to reason with him?"

She shrugged. "I'll try."

* * *

When Beverly was on her way to see Picard a most unfortunate thing happened. She ran into Yar near the guest quarters. Actually, she didn't quite run into her, because Yar was standing, staring out of a nearby viewport. For a moment she wondered if Yar was waiting for Jean-Luc, which made her remember, or rather, imagine again the circumstances under which Yar and Picard had last spent time together alone before the Borg had attacked. Then, she remembered him just a few hours ago in sickbay asking about Yar as soon as he had the chance. Needless to say she was already jealous and irritated as she approached Yar, who remained vey still, seemingly entranced by the stars. Even with her back turned, the woman looked fairly dangerous.

 _Just walk by, Beverly, don't say a thing_ , she told herself.

"Hello, Doctor," said Yar with a small smile, spinning deliberately around on one heel.

 _Was she waiting for me?_

"Hello Yar," Beverly answered coldly, halting in the corridor as Yar continued her stealthy approach.

"On your way to visit Picard?"

"Maybe," said Beverly.

"Oh, Doctor, you don't need to be coy with _me_ …."

"I'm not being coy…I simply don't feel the need to tell you something that is none of your business," said Beverly.

Yar smiled widely in answer. "Well, I just hope that your expectations aren't too high. I don't know if he told you…but he had some trouble with…well, you'll see I suppose."

"First of all, it's funny that you assume I would be concerned about your 'business' dealings with Jean-Luc. And your assumption that I plan to 'see' anything is baseless."

"Do you ever fool anyone with that innocent act?" Yar asked.

Beverly leaned in. "As a matter of fact, he did say something about it..."

Yar laughed, genuinely amused. "Oh, he did?"

"Yes, and frankly I just assumed it was you."

"Me?"

"Yes," said Beverly adopting a mock innocent tone. "I figured you just didn't interest him. You shouldn't feel too badly though, Yar. He has always been very particular."

Yar shook her head slowly. "You think I'm interested in Picard? You're wrong. Picard is _nothing_. He is weak, and soon that will become very clear."

"What are you talking about?"

Yar's expression darkened, and her eyes glittered. "Just be warned, he's not like the rest of you," Yar said darkly. "You may eventually regret attempting to get close to such a person."

"'Such a person'? I've known him half of my life," Beverly said tightly.

"I know him too," said Yar. "More than you would _ever_ be able to comprehend."

Beverly straightened to her full height, and her muscles tensed in anticipation of further conflict, but Yar merely stepped away, and marched off down the hallway.

* * *

Beverly hesitated before hitting the buzzer on Picard's door. "Come," she heard him call out.

The door opened and she was surprised to see an immense black dog jogging silently in her direction.

She leapt out of the way, and threw her hands in front of her as the dog matched her steps and jumped up on her with giant paws. "Aaa!" she exclaimed, but it quickly became clear that the dog wanted only to investigate, as it enthusiastically attempted to lick her face.

"Whoa, okay," Beverly patted the dog until she calmed down and leaned heavily against her legs. She glanced around her. The room was mostly a mess. A pair of boxer shorts and socks lay on the floor nearby, and she recalled the image of him standing in the doorway. She thought of Yar again, and began to question why she had come to see him.

"Marca!" called Picard, stepping out of an adjacent room. He was wearing an oversized bathrobe and was drinking what appeared to be an ice cream soda. The dog looked up at Beverly, shifting her considerable weight, and then looked back at Picard. The frightening memory of the dog on the planet was now hard to maintain.

"I'm sorry, Beverly, I just stepped out of the shower," he said.

"I could certainly come back later, when it's more convenient," she offered.

He frowned. "What an odd thing to say, what time could be more convenient than now? You only just arrived," he said, alternately toweling his head and sipping from the drink.

"You bring ice cream drinks with you into the shower?" she asked, eyeing him carefully.

He sipped through a straw, then paused. "What an interesting idea. I will have to try that...but for now, conveniently there is a replicator just outside of the bathroom," he said. "Would you like one?" he offered, holding up the soda. "Or perhaps a bowl of cereal instead?"

Beverly shook her head looking perplexed. Was this how he had been eating the whole time? "No, thank you," she said politely. She glanced at his bathrobe which was now hanging open exposing his chest. She looked away. But he had clearly noted her gaze, tightening the belt around the bathrobe. "Does my state of dress bother you?" he asked. "I could go and get dressed properly," he said. "It's just that when you go eleven years without the need for clothes, it's a bit awkward having to wear them again, and all the time."

She folded her hands in front of her, again second guessing her decision to visit him. "Right... Jean-Luc, you should really do whatever makes you feel comfortable," she said diplomatically. She was glad he seemed more at ease, less intense than he had been before when they were alone in sick bay. Now he seemed more…boyish, as though he still hadn't a clue of how to behave properly, but now it was kind of endearing. She looked down at the dog, whose tongue was hanging happily out of her mouth.

His gaze dropped to the floor, and he quickly scooped up several stray items of clothing from the floor. "Oh! Sorry," he said, bringing them into his bedroom. The dog followed him. When he re-emerged, he had fastened his bathrobe more tightly around him.

"Please," said Picard, taking her by the elbow. "Come and have a seat," he said, leading her to the living room couch. She sat down and tucked a couch cushion under her arm, and then realized that the stuffing was popping out of it.

"What happened to your couch?" she asked, grabbing a handful of fluff with surprise.

"Oh," said Picard, sounding as though he had forgotten about it until now. He sat down on the other end of the couch. "Marca apparently was upset during the Borg attack and took her frustrations out on that pillow."

Crusher looked at the dog, now leaning contentedly against Picard's bare legs. "Well, you can't blame her really," said Beverly.

Picard finished drinking his soda and placed the glass down on his coffee table. "I'm glad that you came, Beverly," he said, folding his hands in his lap.

She stared at him, unsure of what to say. "I'm glad too, Jean-Luc."

He leaned back against his side of the couch and crossed one leg over the other. "When you're not here I think about you. How you look, how you smell…you always smell so wonderful, do you know that?" He leaned toward her slightly, and reached his arm along the couch. His fingertips rested an inch away from her shoulder.

He drank in her features as he gazed at her, but eventually her own gaze wavered and she broke into an embarrassed smile. "Actually, would you mind..." She made a motion with her arms as though encouraging him to cover up.

He looked genuinely surprised. "I thought you wanted me to be comfortable," he said.

Beverly patted his knee. "I just at this very moment, changed my mind," she said with a soft smile.

"Oh," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll be back in a few moments then," he said before retreating quickly into his bedroom.

"Jean-Luc, I didn't mean you had to change your clothes," she called after him.

* * *

Less than a minute later, he walked back into the room wearing a plain red and black command uniform and boots. Missing was the communicator badge, and the tiny rank pips. He cleared his throat and smoothed the hair on top of his head. He sat down somewhat stiffly, and tugged down the hem of his shirt. "I trust that this is more acceptable?" he said with a frown, sounding much more formal now.

She threw her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, but his expression was so serious, that she quickly sobered. She took a shaky breath and looked down at her own hands momentarily. "Yes. In fact, seeing you in that uniform actually reminds me of something I needed to talk with you about, Jean-Luc...Jack tells me that you resigned from Starfleet this morning."

His forehead creased. "Are you here because Jack sent you, or because you wanted to see me?"

"Both," she admitted.

"Well," he said, "Yes, I resigned. If I hadn't, they would have sent me away to command another starship. The _Yamato_ …."

Beverly pursed her lips, a little taken off guard. Jack had conveniently left out any mention of Jean-Luc begin offered a command. "So... you resigned in order to stay with us? Are you going to help us find those children?"

"Yes. I will do my best."

"Why would they take the children? If the Borg are fixated on technological improvements, then—"

"I don't know," he said. "I still haven't figured that out," he admitted.

"But you _are_ sure that you want to stay," she said, hopefully.

"You would like me to?"

She shook her head. "It's not about me."

He looked at her. "Maybe it is about you. And why shouldn't it be?"

"But Jean-Luc, have you forgotten the things you loved about being a Captain—"

"Beverly, I have no interest in talking about Starfleet," he interrupted.

"What do you want to talk about then?" she asked leaning against the back of the couch. This apparently prompted him to move closer to her again and he rested his fingertips on her forearm.

"I want to talk about your beauty and what it does to me," he said lazily tracing a pattern on her sleeve.

She pulled her arm away. "Jean-Luc, I don't know if I'm ready to talk about those things with you."

He dropped his hand absently to his thigh. "You don't trust me, do you? Not even after what I did? You said the Jean-Luc you loved would have found a way…well I found a way to stop the Borg."

She looked at him "Yes, that's true, Jean-Luc. You found a way and we are all alive because of it."

"But?" he prompted.

"But…I'd like to get to know you again. You're so different from the way you were, Jean-Luc. I'm not used to the way you—"

"So you loved the old me...not that you were ever willing to make me aware of that fact-but you don't love the current version of me?"

"It's not that simple," she said quickly.

"Is this about Yar?" he demanded abruptly.

"Well she _was_ outside of your quarters when I arrived," Beverly said, immediately annoyed by the change in subject matter, and his tone.

" _What_? Why didn't you say anything about it?"

"Frankly, if you _must_ know, I'm not sure I want to know what's going on between the two of you. So I would rather not bring up the subject of Yar at all."

"Well, I hope you'll listen to me, and stay away from her," he warned her.

"Why?"

He paused. "I can't tell you," he said. "At least not yet."

"Fine...I trust you. But are you still _involved_ with her?"

"What does that mean?"

"How can you have the IQ of a Q and not understand what that means? I'm not going to spell it out for you, Jean-Luc."

He stood up angrily. "This is really about Jack, isn't it? You're waiting to see whether I return to the Continuum before you break it off with him. Weighing your options…I see it now."

"That's not fair," she said, getting to her feet. "Yes, I had moved on with my life, because I thought you were dead. And maybe now I need a chance to process all of this," she said her voice rising.

His eyes narrowed as though he didn't hear her words. "What about that lab technician? Maybe I should have knocked him out like I had wanted to that night. Now he thinks he can just… just _have_ you."

She pushed him in the chest, as she walked by him. "No one can just have me, Jean-Luc. Not even you, with your god-like powers! I think being a Q for so long made you used to getting everything and anything you wanted. Well, now you are with us lowly mortals again. And I am my own person, and until you remember that, I am not going to just give in to your wishes and be with you. Understand?"

He glared at her and realized that he wanted her even more now that she was acting so belligerently. "Yes," he said.

"Good," she said angrily, and moving toward him she grabbed him and kissed him on the mouth. She grasped his shirt and pushed him up against the wall, deepening their kiss. Gasping as she pulled away from him, she turned and quickly walked out of his quarters.

He watched her leave, stunned. On the floor next to him Marca let out an odd whimper.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

* * *

The girl ran as fast as she could. She was faster than any of them, and that was why she was still alive. The fleet-footed girl had no idea that long before she was born, Turkana IV had originally been colonized with the slogan "Only the best, for the best of humanity". It had originally been known as an exotic vacation getaway for those civilians bored with Earth and other planets, and then later, when its reputation became slightly more rough and tumble, Turkana IV became known as the "Party Planet".

But then gradually, as more options for off-planet vacation travel opened up for Earth people, and the drug trade began to flourish, Turkana became a joke back home on Earth. And the one-note pleasure-based economy quickly fell apart and chaos took over. In the face of widespread crime and violence, all off-worlders left, never to return, and nearly all native colonists of Turkana IV split into factions. The ones who had the means to leave, did, and those left behind became caught in a struggle to survive.

Those were the circumstances into which Natasha Yar was born. Her parents were both killed by the time she and her sister Ishara were ten and seven years old respectively. By the time she was thirteen, her sister had joined a gang for protection, and Natasha was completely on her own. By the time she had turned fourteen, killing for self defense was already familiar to her, and by her fifteenth year, she began to enjoy killing. What else was there really to keep one occupied on this planet, and no one's life was worth a damn anyway.

The only protector she had was a being she never referred to out loud, but silently knew it as the star. She couldn't remember when she had first seen it; but, after each sighting, she would take out a delicate piece of greyish paper from inside a small container, and draw the star from memory with a small piece of charcoal.

One evening, when she was resting in a field inside a familiar old cargo container, she heard a voice outside. "Hey girlie…." She recognized the sound of his disgusting voice. It was a man who had been following her for two days. He was old; they all were. And they all wanted the same thing, but she knew how to keep them from getting it.

She killed each and every one of them, so that they would never be able to come after her again. Recently, after each time she took out a pervert, there was a reward waiting for her; the bright star hanging lower in the sky, each time. It seemed to grow closer to her each time. "Girlie," the man taunted her again, and hit some kind of metal weapon against the side of the cargo container. A weapon was no problem. A weapon could be used against its owner quite easily.

And as soon as the man's arm reached inside the cargo bin, his grubby hand gripping a laser gun, she lashed out, snapping his wrist inward, and pumped four quick shots into his chest. He was dead instantly. She felt nothing, not even a shot of adrenaline.

Pushing the man's body over, she climbed out of the cargo bin to claim her prize, and to her delight the star was back. And this time it shot toward her so quickly that before she could blink it had surrounded her. It was the warmest thing she could ever remember having felt, and she embraced it. For the first time in her whole life she had something to love her.

* * *

"Commander Shelby, I need to know that we are making some progress on learning to track these Borg ships," said Jack Crusher.

"We are sir," said Shelby, glancing up as Yar and Picard entered. The two had been arguing heatedly, but quieted down once they entered the conference room.

Yar sat down casually next to the former Hood's first officer. "Hey roomie," she said with a confident wink.

Shelby tensed with annoyance. Due to a shortage of living quarters, strangers were at least temporarily required to be roommates. The Enterprise was a large ship, but it already had a crew of more than eleven hundred as it was. This meant that the four hundred plus additional crewmen from the Hood had resulted in a decidedly crowded feeling on board the Enterprise. Shelby had personally witnessed instances of tempers flaring already.

Shelby had just been assigned to room with Yar, who was already a guest on board the Enterprise and her quarters were cramped. Shelby had already noticed the odd sleeping habits of Yar; namely that she did not sleep, at least not for long, and generally disappeared for most of the night. This was fine with Shelby, since she highly valued what little privacy she now had, and was incredibly wary of Yar.

Prior to the arrival of the predictably late Picard and Yar, Shelby sat with Commander Data and Captain Crusher in the main conference room, strategizing. Captain Crusher was demanding a status report, and she couldn't blame him for doing so. It had been several days since the crews of the Enterprise and the Hood had discovered that the children from the Marca II colony had been abducted by the Borg.

They had begun investigating the ability to track Borg ships through trans warp conduits, that is until they had been waylaid by three Borg ships which had taken everything the two starships had, and the result was that she was now a first officer without a ship. Her captain lay in sick bay after having been severely injured, and more than one third of the Hood's crew had been lost in the battle. The rest of the injured, weary and traumatized Hood crew had now merged with that of the Enterprise crew.

Meanwhile, Starfleet had at least temporarily decided not to reassign the remaining Hood crew, and so it appeared that the overcrowded situation would continue for the foreseeable future. The fact was that the combined crew complement now had seen more action against the Borg than any other Starfleet vessels, and it made sense to keep their collective knowledge intact at least for now. Shelby was fine with this arrangement, as she had no real say in the matter.

Another concern was determining how she would fit in with this new crew. The Enterprise could not have two first officers after all; nor could it have two captains, and Crusher and Riker had already bumped heads more than once. It seemed that now that Picard had abdicated his title as a captain, it was possible that some of the earlier tension might dissipate.

For now, she was just another commander. She sat stiffly, as Captain Crusher demanded a status report. "Captain, we have identified three different anomalies in the Marcan Sector, one of which is located within a parsec of Marca II. We think that this might be the conduit."

"So we have enough to follow it, then?" asked Jack.

"We cannot be certain that the Borg ship which abducted the children a few days before we arrived on Marca II has recently traversed the conduit that Commander Shelby is referring to," said Data. "To use a colloquialism commonly used by Lt. Commander LaForge, tracking a Borg ship through the conduit would be a 'crapshoot'."

Jack sat back tiredly in his chair. Mention of Geordi, was a reminder that many of his best staff were down for the count, including Geordi, who continued to be in a coma after trying to fend off a Borg in Engineering. "And how do we even know these children are still alive, or that they are on the same ship? If I had to choose a better colloquialism Data, I would call this similar to searching for a needle in a haystack."

"Whatever you decide, Captain, I recommend we do it soon," Shelby warned. "Every moment spent talking is another moment these children are suffering at the hands of the Borg."

"I'm afraid it's not so simple," Picard said quietly.

Jack turned to his friend. He was wearing loose civilian clothes again, something resembling a black track suit. Part of Jack had hoped he would arrive wearing his uniform; that perhaps Beverly had talked some sense into him after all. "Then help us understand, Jean-Luc."

Picard got up and walked over to a wall replicator. "Tea, Earl Grey, hot," he said, and the steaming cup swirled into existence. He picked it up and walked back to his seat, sitting down. He closed his eyes and slowly breathed in the comforting scent.

Jack cleared his throat. "Jean-Luc?"

Picard opened his eyes and clasped his hands around the mug. "Even if the Borg took the children back through a conduit, and even if you have identified the appropriate transwarp conduit, where the Borg traveled after exiting the conduit on the other side is a mystery. In addition, whether a conduit can be traversed by a ship like this is unknown."

"Why are you leaving out the most important factor, Picard?" Yar asked casually. "Trying to let them down easy?"

Picard sipped his tea gingerly. "As I noted in my report, the Borg reside in the Delta Quadrant. It would potentially take years at maximum warp to return to the Alpha Quadrant using conventional means."

Jack sighed. "But a transwarp conduit would take us back in...?"

"Minutes," said Picard.

"So we won't ever know if it's possible to return until we take the chance, sir," said Shelby.

Yar leaned forward offering Jack Crusher a small smile. "Picard could get us back no problem with his power of the Q...I really think all we need his guarantee that he will use it to ensure our return."

Jack turned to Picard. "Well? Is she telling the truth?"

Picard drank the rest of his tea and slammed the cup back on the table. "I can't promise anything," he said.

Jack clenched his jaw and nodded, drumming the table with his fingers. "Fine. Well, I have been given the go-ahead to find those children, and that's what I intend to do. This ship is literally limping right now. And without LaForge on the job it's going to be that much slower to get us back to even eighty percent of what we were before the Borg attack. And the Hood's Chief Engineer was killed in action…" he added.

Shelby looked down trying not to betray her emotions. As tightly kept as they were, she still had them. When she glanced up again, Yar was watching her with a tiny smirk. "What the hell is so funny?" Shelby snapped.

Yar merely shrugged.

"Keep the sniping to a minimum," said Jack. "I'm going to need all hands on deck in Engineering and full cooperation from everyone else," said Jack. "Data, Shelby, resume your preparations to enter the Marcan conduit, and keep me updated. I want us back to 90 percent warp and weapons capability in twelve hours. Dismissed."

* * *

Picard headed for sick bay to see Riker. He nearly tiptoed in. He wanted to see Riker, but was afraid to run into Beverly again. Their last meeting the evening before had gone quite poorly, aside from his having been on the receiving end of an incredible kiss. Seeing her attending to a patient, he avoided entering her line of sight and crept stealthily to Riker's recovery room.

Standing in the doorway, Picard watched Riker for a moment. The man seemed to be contemplating something very serious, as he stared at the hospital walls.

"Thinking of a way to get revenge on me for crashing your ship?" Picard asked, stepping inside the room.

Riker brightened a bit noticing his new visitor, but grew serious again. "No, I was actually thinking about the children taken by the Borg. Do you think they are still alive?"

Picard nodded. "Oh, most certainly. The Borg won't kill them."

"But they'll torture them and mutilate them won't they? What is it they call it?"  
"They will...assimilate them," said Picard. "But as long as they live, we can save them," he added.

Riker nodded and then tossed aside a recreational game pad he had half-heartedly been playing with. "What's our status, anyway, Picard? I haven't exactly been kept in the loop down here..."

"We're trying to get battle-ready and as close to maximum warp capability in the next twelve hours and then warp into a conduit," said Picard.

"Will it work?"

"If you mean can we successfully traverse the conduit and find the Borg ship that stole the children...yes, I think we can. But after that, our situation will become far more precarious, far more dangerous, Riker. I do not know if the people on board this ship can adequately prepare for what we might find on the other side."

"Well," said Riker, stretching his arms over his head, "it's lucky for us that we have an expert consultant who's been to the other side."

Picard smiled slightly and then moved to sit down. "How are you doing, Riker?" Picard pulled up a chair and leaned an elbow on the edge of Riker's hospital bed.

Riker shrugged and rubbed his eyes. "If I'm honest, Picard…physically I feel like hell, and psychologically I feel even worse."

Picard nodded. "When I was a Captain I used to have nightmares about losing the Stargazer. Given the state of that old ship, the fact that I never did was a miracle in itself…."

"It's hard to describe," said Riker. "But I feel like a body part is missing. And my crew…so many were lost. I keep replaying it in my mind. What steps could I have taken differently to avoid that kind of loss of life?"

"Nothing," said Picard. "We were simply outmatched in every sense of the word."

Riker fell silent for a few moments, and then asked, "How did you do it?" He shifted in his bed to look at Picard, who smiled thinly.

"I simply acted, that's all", said Picard.

"Yes, and you did everything you needed to do and pulled it off. I can't lie…I've been wondering whether you used your Q power…."

"No," said Picard. "No, I didn't use it. But don't think I haven't considered why I did not, over and over since then. Perhaps if I had used my power early on, your crew would still be alive, and your ship _and_ your legs would still be intact, Riker."

Riker sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm not in your shoes, Picard, so I won't judge you. Sounds like you are doing enough of that yourself."

"Finally, no judgements?"

Riker laughed. "All I know is that whatever you did…well they are going to be studying it at the Academy for years to come."

Picard seemed unconcerned by such things. In fact he seemed very preoccupied. He laced his fingers together. "Has Doctor Crusher been by to visit you today yet?"

Riker nodded, "Yes, she checked in with me earlier this morning and then she and Deanna went to have some kind of heart to heart in the other room. It is almost as though they have known each other for years. Who knows what it is they've been talking about..." The corners of his mouth slowly curled into a small smile as he watched the expression on his new friend's face change. "You've got it bad, haven't you?"

Picard nodded. "Yes, I think so," he admitted. "Could I ask for your advice?"

"Picard, you saved my ass yesterday, if not my legs…how could I deny you some friendly advice?"

"It's been a long time since a woman kissed me like that…."

Riker laughed. "You have my sympathy. But I am assuming the drought was just broken?"

"Yes. But she was shouting at me. Is an angry kiss still a good thing?"

Riker began to laugh, but quieted down when he saw the serious and bemused look on Picard's face. "It depends…what came first, the kissing or the shouting?"

"The shouting..."

"And then she kissed you?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well that's positive at least. And why was she shouting at you?"

Picard pressed his lips together and looked down at his feet. "Perhaps it was something I said..."

Riker tried to remain a straight face as he waited for the rest of the explanation. "I mentioned Jack, and how I thought she was weighing her options before splitting with him. And then I mentioned her coworker and how I had wished I had followed through on my desire to punch him the other day in the lab…in order to keep him away from her..."

"And she still kissed you after all of that? Wow..."

Picard lifted an eyebrow. "I know..."

Riker looked at him with sincere empathy. "Listen, it is obvious that she is interested, but she's trying to tell you to stop trying to control her."

"And so your advice is?"

Riker took a deep breath. "Stop being a jealous asshole. Based on my interactions with your friend Jack, she's probably already dealing with enough of that junk from him."

Picard looked relieved. "That seems easy enough," he said.

Riker stared at him. "For some people, yes. For you...no. You need to start exercising some self-control. Find a way to get rid of your excess energy if you know what I mean."

Picard looked at him aghast. "Oh, I already do far too much of that..."

Riker shut his eyes tightly trying to dispel the mental image. "I didn't need to know that. Look I mean, try and do something to take your mind off of her even just a little bit. What did you do to unwind, you know before the Q took you?"

"I didn't unwind. In fact as a rule I was always wound very tightly." He tried to concentrate, in order to remember. "Well, I did enjoy athletics very much. In particular, running."

"Perfect," said Riker with a grin. "I wish I could join, but as you can see..." he said gesturing at his legs.

"Yes," said Picard. "A minor setback. But you'll be on your feet soon enough. Any other advice?"

Riker looked at him. "I would suggest trying to be a little more emotionally withholding."

Picard laughed. "That _used_ to be my problem, Riker. In fact I rarely showed any emotion."

"So can you imagine how shocking it is for your friends to see you this way? Saying every single thing that comes to mind and treating Beverly like she is some kind of object?"

"Riker, I don't know if I will ever be able to change back completely to the way I was...I've been through a great deal you know. I've seen amazing...and terrible things. I've done things you would consider impossible and very bizarre."

"No doubt," allowed Riker. "But as far as your relationship with Doctor Crusher, maybe you should try and call on some of your old restraint. Just be a little less aggressive and see how she responds to that. Give her some room. And remember... _self-control_."

Picard nodded slowly. "I will try and do as you suggest."

* * *

As he slowly got to his feet, and turned to leave, Beverly walked in. She hesitated when she saw him, but he stepped graciously aside giving her a polite smile. Carefully ignoring him, she quickly moved past him to check on Riker.

"How are we doing today, Captain?" Crusher was asking Riker.

Standing behind Beverly, Picard leaned against the wall and was still able to make eye contact with Riker, who provided him only with a non-descript head nod. Picard pointed insistently at the doorway indicating his immediate plan of action. He could think of nothing but escape, but Riker shook his head slowly and silently mouthed _"don't leave yet!"_

Seeing something was up, Beverly glanced over her shoulder at Picard who was still pointing toward the door. Caught, he dropped his hand as she gave him a withering glare before turning back to Riker. He settled for standing there silently. His heart was beating very fast and he tried to call on some of his old stoicism, to compose himself.

"Much better", said Riker. "I almost feel as though I can get up and walk today."

"Wonderful," she said looking down at his chart. "Because that is _exactly_ what you are going to do today. I'll have Alyssa work with you to get you started with some exercises."

Picard watched her as she leaned over Riker, testing the healing muscles on his legs. He studied the contours of her shoulders and back. Every movement she made was riveting.

Riker leaned back to catch his eye. _"Stop staring at her…"_ he mouthed silently. Picard quickly looked away.

Beverly stood up straight, still facing Riker. "It seems that I am interrupting some kind of unspoken conversation between the two of you. Just let me finish what I'm doing here, and you can get back to…whatever it was you were talking about."

"Oh no, I was just leaving," Picard insisted.

"Then _why_ are you standing there staring at the back of my head?" Beverly said with barely contained irritation, as she examined the incision scars on Riker's legs. They were healing well, she thought, rather pleased.

"Well, it's very difficult not to stare at you, when you are—"

"Shh!" Riker put his index finger to his lips, glaring at Picard, but it was too late. Giving up, Riker leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Beverly straightened and turned back around to face Picard with her hands on her hips. "It's difficult not to stare at me when I'm _what_?"

Picard looked at Riker, who opened his eyes briefly to shake his head, trying to discourage Picard not to answer.

Suddenly at a loss for words, Picard simply shrugged. "I…really must be going. Wonderful to see you are feeling better, Riker," he called out, backing out of the room slowly. "Goodbye Beverly," he added quickly before disappearing from view.

"Mm hmm," she said, before turning back to Riker with a shake of her head. "Un…believable," she said under her breath.

* * *

Riker had been right after all, the run had been a great idea. Picard decided to take Marca for a run on the holodeck through the computer generated fields of his home in LaBarre. It was a wonderful breezy day, and despite her bulk, Marca was quite swift and he could tell she was enjoying herself immensely. As the fields and tall grasses, and trees rushed by him, some things registered as familiar, and some things were strange. As the sun began to sink behind the hills, he and Marca slowed down as they came to a stream. At his side, Marca lapped noisily from the bubbling water. He knelt down and let his fingers drop into it lazily, and the cold was just as real as the cold he had felt all of those years ago.

And then the familiarity struck him, and he fell back onto the wet sand, gasping as the memories came rushing back. "Marca!" he screamed, as he saw her wading in further. "No, come back," he fell forward and grabbed the dog around her chest, pulling her back. She sat down awkwardly and gave him a curious look. She seemed to note his distress and gave him a lick on the face. He fell onto his back, feeling a sense of panic overtaking him, and he twitched, feeling as though the world was going grey. In his mind's eye he saw the beautiful shining, terrible light again. _Their_ light.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

* * *

"Captain!" he felt someone shaking him, and he was wide awake and staring, but something kept him from registering anything but the paralyzing fear inside his head.

Someone was gripping his arms tightly. "Sir!" The slim form standing above him was blurred, but gradually the earnest face shouting down at him grew clearer. "Wesley?" he whispered.

"Come on, sir," said the boy, attempting to yank his father up out of the holographic sand. Gaining some fortitude, Jean-Luc pushed himself up from the ground, and staggered forward into his son's arms.

* * *

Counselor Deanna Troi sat across from Picard in her new office. He had reluctantly agreed to meet with her after Wesley Crusher had found him lying in the holodeck experiencing some kind of panic attack. He had been too embarrassed to go to sick bay, and so this had been his next best option, it seemed. Wesley stood in her doorway for a few minutes before Deanna nodded at him gently and he reluctantly left.

Picard sat down on her couch and seemed as though he were in a daze.

"Captain…"

"I'm not in Starfleet anymore," he answered dully.

"Alright then…may I call you Jean-Luc?"

He looked down at his hands. "Yes."

"Jean-Luc, do you mind if I use my empathic powers as we discuss what happened to you today on the holodeck?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked looking up at her.

She laughed softly. "Of course you do."

He nodded. "Whatever you need to do then," he agreed.

She paused and looked at him closely. "How do you feel, Jean-Luc?"

"Disappointed...as though everything I thought I knew about my life was just revealed to be a lie. Is that what you expected to hear, Counselor?"

She tilted her head at him. "You're not planning on hiding anything from me, are you?" _His emotions are so raw_ , she thought. _He can't hide a thing from me, and he knows it._

"Jean-Luc, have you ever heard of repressed memories?"

"Yes, of course," he answered.

"You're thinking about a light, Jean-Luc. Tell me about it."

"There's nothing to tell. It's a light, and it is both beautiful and horrible at the same time."

"I can already see in your mind that it is very beautiful Jean-Luc. But why is it so horrible?"

"Can't you _see_ it? How it takes and takes? Even the things it gave me, it took back."

"The light represents the Q, doesn't it Jean-Luc?"

The light was the Q. He had never put these events in his life together. How could that have been. The death of his dog as a child and his abduction as an adult were inextricably linked. Had there been other instances of contact with the Q? He didn't know, and didn't want to. He stared at the floor. "Ever since I was a child, it has been there, watching me. I am nothing but an experiment."

"Jean-Luc, what do you mean?"

"I thought I was special, Troi, but my whole life has been only to entertain them. And then when they became bored with me, the Q tossed me out on my ear, like the damaged goods that I am."

"How are you damaged?"

He laughed. "How? Counselor, I cannot even relate to the people I care about. If you had known me before the Q, you wouldn't have needed to ask that question."

"Oh? I recently read your personnel file from years ago within which your psychological profile described you as distant, avoiding of anything more than superficial interpersonal relationships, with frequent displays of arrogance."

"So you're saying the sum of all of those unfortunate qualities is still me? That seems a bit rude," he objected.

"The truth hurts, at times," she said. "Now...I think you are deflecting my questions about the past because you're afraid to reconsider it."

"Afraid? I'm not afraid of the past. It's the future that should scare me to death, based on my track record of late."

" _Try_ and focus," she said calmly. "We were discussing what happened to you as a child."

He dropped his forehead into his hand with a sigh. "Not this again."

"Tell me about your dog, Jean-Luc." Deanna had moved to the edge of her seat.

"No." He abruptly stood up. Turning to a nearby table, he picked up a vase full of flowers, suddenly compelled to throw it against the wall. _Self-control…c_ lenching his jaw, he slowly and carefully placed it back down on the table.

She looked at him intently but with compassion. But she could see that he did not believe he deserved her compassion.

"You can continue to stand if you like, Jean-Luc," Troi allowed. "But I want you to tell me what happened to Henri," she urged him gently.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I have nothing else to tell you," he said, and walked from her office.

* * *

Deanna centered her mind, after Picard had left, trying to rewind everything she had just sensed from his mind. She tried to recall every image and emotional reaction. She opened her eyes slowly. The inner workings of the recently returned former captain were at best jumbled. He had eleven years of Q knowledge packed in there. During that period, he could see that he had been protected from typical human emotions and morality. In order to behave as a Q he had to be.

But there were dark periods too, events that even he did not fully remember; times when he was not so protected. And now, this realization that he had been followed, even studied by the Q from a young age, had deeply unsettled him. He was questioning everything he had been through in his life, including his very identity.

She got up and walked slowly over to the vase he had picked up. He had wanted to hurl it at a wall, but hadn't. He was practicing self control. While admirable, he would need to let some of this emotion out gradually so that he could heal from his experience. She touched the vase lightly, hoping there would be some residual emotion there left from his touch. There was. Her knees buckled slightly as a series of frightening images came to mind. And then out of a sweltering, dark room, two dull green lamps moved toward her. She let go, and the vase almost crashed to the floor, before she caught it.

* * *

"Captain?" As Picard exited, Wesley stood up from where he had been sitting against the wall outside of Troi's office.

"Hello, Wesley," said Picard. "Thank you for taking care of me, and for waiting."

Wesley nodded. "I brought Marca back to your quarters and gave her something to eat."

"Thank you, she's always hungry, it seems."

Wes looked down at his feet. "I'm worried about you. You seem so lonely…."

Picard looked at him in surprise. He hadn't realized this very clear fact until now. "I _am_ lonely, Wesley. You're right."

"Well…you have me, you know."

Picard nodded, and put his hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Thank you."

Wesley cleared his throat. "I'm going over to Mom's for dinner, sir. Do you want to come? I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you—"

"Yes…she _would_ mind if I came, Wesley. I can't blame her. I sometimes act very strangely around her, and I practically need a chaperone to monitor my behavior. It's really quite embarrassing."

"Sort of how I was when I first started hanging around with Anna." Wesley's expression grew sad, but then he composed himself and looked at Picard. "Look, I can be your chaperone for dinner tonight. Just please come with me? She already knows what happened this afternoon on the holodeck. I told her, and it kind of freaked her out. She might even be nice to you."

"Oh, I don't know..."

* * *

When the door opened, and they were standing there side by side, Beverly had been hesitant about letting him in. But she had invited Wesley for dinner, and perhaps with his son here he would actually behave himself. Besides both Wesley and Troi had told her generally about what had happened to Jean-Luc on the holodeck, and she felt very badly for him. Standing there next to his son, he seemed so vulnerable, and hardly imposing at all. She beckoned them both in and gave him a reserved smile.

Jean-Luc stood looking out the view port silently while dinner was being replicated. Wesley worked on a model starship he was building nearby while occasionally stealing furtive glances at his father.

"Nice to see you eating something more than root beer floats," said Wesley, once they sat down to eat. The spaghetti was delicious, and Picard had filled his own plate with an immense portion. Beverly watched him dubiously without saying a word, and seemed to doubt whether he could eat the entire meal.

"Mm hmm…" said Picard, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I even stopped smoking...well mostly," he said, sounding proud of himself.

Beverly reddened, and tore off a piece of bread. She was annoyed that he had been smoking in the first place, but said nothing.

"What's the point of smoking anyway?" Wesley asked.

"Among other things, and depending on the substance being smoked, ancient people believed it gave a person a suave, sophisticated, even sexy appearance," said Picard, taking a drink from his glass of milk.

Beverly reached across and wiped sauce from his chin with her napkin. "They were completely wrong, by the way," she said.

Picard shrugged. "To each his own," he said easily.

She sat back with an irritated sigh. "Alright, Jean-Luc, you win. Smoking is very sexy," she said, standing up from the table with her plate and when she walked over to the recycler, she dumped it in rather noisily.

Picard glanced at Wesley seriously. "See? Even your mother agrees."

"You can't read sarcasm anymore, can you Jean-Luc?" she called out from across the room.

"This doesn't mean you're allowed to start smoking, son," he continued, seriously. "In particular...avoid Guinan's herbal blend," he whispered loudly.

"What are you whispering about?" Beverly asked from across the room.

"Nothing," he and Wesley said at the same time. She sighed in exasperation.

Wesley looked up at his mother proudly as she approached the table again, hoping she had heard Picard refer to him as 'son'. And she had.

Beverly sat back down at the table slowly, with two cups of coffee. She slid one to Picard silently. Taking his cue, Wesley got up and left the table. He walked over to the living room area, and sat down, fiddling with a model starship he had built from scratch. He had thought about bringing it to show Geordi, but he knew Geordi was still in a coma. He pushed these and other sad thoughts from his mind, and took solace in watching his parents talk quietly at the table.

Picard was somewhat worried now that Wesley had left the table, because his track record with Beverly had not been good. He thought perhaps starting off with an apology might be well received. "I am sorry about earlier today in sickbay."

Beverly sipped her coffee with an astute smile. "For which part are you apologizing?"

He froze, feeling sure that this was a trap. "All of it," he said finally.

Beverly nodded, looking somewhat impressed at his quick thinking. She raised an eyebrow. "So you regret openly staring at my behind while I was working?"

Picard stared into his cup. He had no idea what the appropriate answer was, and she seemed to be playing a game with him. "No, not really," he admitted. "I rather enjoyed it, actually."

Crusher smiled mischievously. "I thought so," she said.

* * *

It wasn't long before their conversation took a more serious turn. Beverly put her hand on his. "Jean-Luc, what happened to you today? Wesley told me he found you lying on your back near a riverbed in a holodeck simulation."

He looked away and then focused on her hand. "I decided to go for a run, on Riker's advice…."

She raised an amused eyebrow and tried to catch his gaze. "Oh? Well, you used to run all of the time. I think that's a great idea. Is that what you two were talking about in sick bay?"

"He suggested that I try and get rid of some of my excess energy."

"…which is something that has been causing you a problem lately?"

He glanced at her and then looked quickly away again. "Yes."

She squeezed his hand affectionately. "You really don't want to tell me what happened, do you?"

He shook his head and then finally looked up at her. "I went for a run to get some exercise, and I found something much more…something I didn't want to see."

"What did you see?" she whispered.

"Something…perhaps a memory from when I was just a boy. Something horrible that had been buried for years." He shrugged and pulled his hand away. "I supposed I just froze…it's quite embarrassing, really."

"You don't have to be embarrassed with me, Jean-Luc. I want to hear it."

He shook his head and stared at the table.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "You know… Wesley doesn't want to talk with me either lately. I'm worried about him, Jean-Luc. His friend was killed right in front of him, and now Geordi is in a coma. Geordi has been like an older brother or an uncle to him—that is how close they are. And now…well he's internalizing everything." She smiled wistfully. "He's like you in that way."

Picard turned and looked at Wesley, who was sitting on the couch fiddling with a model starship. He realized that he needed to have the courage to face his emotions honestly, if he was to guide his son to do the same. He looked at Beverly, and realized that he wanted to be someone that she could rely on, not someone who ran away from her when he was uncomfortable. He suddenly regretted not telling her about his memory triggered by the holodeck. He owed her, owed them both something more than what he had offered so far. He waved at Wesley to get his attention. "Wesley, come here for a moment, please."

Wesley got up immediately and walked over, sitting down across from him without a word. Beverly's eyebrows shot up in surprise at how quickly her son had responded. She put her chin in her hand and watched the two of them curiously.

Picard took a deep breath. "I have realized that I haven't told you much about what happened to me with the Q, so I want to tell you both something now."

Wesley jiggled his leg underneath the table and stared at Picard with rapt attention. "Yes, sir," he said. Beverly's mouth twitched, her amusement kept in check by the anticipation of what Jean-Luc was going to say.

"I want you both to know that I intend to stay here with you…in whatever capacity you will have me. I have no plans to return to the Q Continuum. When I was first…rejected by the Q, and left on Delvora I was given a chance to return, but now I realize that I no longer want to. You have to understand that for years I had no contact with human beings at all. And I thought that all of you had forgotten about me, which of course I now know was not true." He paused, but they didn't seem to want to interrupt him, so he continued. "The fact is that although I thought that there was no limit to my knowledge, that I had somehow evolved into a Q, I was always just a human being, and the Q were able to keep certain things from me."

"You mean they lied to you," said Wesley.

"Yes, they lied to me. There were two very important lies in particular: when Jack—your Dad and I—were on an away team mission the Q entity came to me and told me that Jack would be killed if I did not go with them."

"What?" Beverly's hands dropped to the table in shock.

"I now think that they had no intention of killing Jack, but of course at the time I believed I had no choice."

Beverly stared down at the table, and shakily wiped a tear from underneath her eye. Wesley took her hand consolingly.

Picard cleared his throat and continued. "The next lie they told me was that you were not my son, Wesley. After a few years, when I became more adept at using my powers I was given a choice to stay with the Q or to return to humanity. I chose to investigate whether you were my son first, believing that I would be able to know the truth. But the Q hid the truth from me; the truth that you were my son. I need you to understand that had I known, I would have returned to be with you."

Wesley nodded and looked at his mother, who was shaking her head and wiping her eyes. "What do you think the Q wanted with you, sir?"

"Your mother asked me a question before I called you over. It was about what happened to me today on the holodeck, Wesley. But I didn't have enough courage to answer her properly just a few minutes ago."

"Jean-Luc, it's alright," Beverly said, blowing her nose into a tissue.

"No, no… I want to tell you. That small river where I went running today on the holodeck is a river that was the border of my parent's land during my youth. We were forbidden from crossing over the stream. One day after I was done working with my brother Robert in the fields, I took my little dog Henri for a run down to the stream. Oh I really loved that dog," he said with a grin, remembering. "Anyway, I had told my parents that I intended to go fishing, and I even brought the pole and a bucket with me."

"You _fished?_ You mean you hunted for _real fish_?" Wesley was astounded, as such things were no longer allowed on Earth.

Picard shook his head no. "I didn't fish, and had no intention of fishing that day, but I lied to my parents. My father was very strict. To him if you weren't working all day in the sun, you were lazy and no good. Even after you had done all he had asked you to do, it was never enough. And so I often tried to get away once all of the work had been done, just to be alone. But on that day, I had something else in mind. You see, a few days earlier, I had seen something glinting in the sand across the stream. And I wanted to see it again. That was why I brought a small shovel with me."

"How old were you?" Beverly asked.

"About nine, I think."

"A young archaeologist," Beverly said with a smile.

He smiled at her and then quickly grew serious again. "I found my way across the stream, and then began to dig. When I spotted that same glinting, I continued to dig as though my life depended on it. I was driven by something I didn't understand—the promise of discovery, I suppose. But the more I dug, the more it became clear I would never be able to reach this strange shining object, and the darker it got outside, the more obsessed I became with finding this object. But…." He suddenly struggled to keep his composure, and wasn't sure if he could continue. "But the problem was that I lost sight of Henri…he had been barking at me. He wasn't happy with me that I had crossed over, and he must have jumped in to the stream when I was preoccupied with finding the object. He was too small to keep up with the current. As I dug like a madman my best friend was swept away. I dove in, and I searched and searched for him letting the current take me, but he was gone."

"Oh Jean-Luc that is so horrible…."

His voice trembled when he spoke next. "Today I remembered something that I had seen after—after I lost Henri. It was a bright light floating above the bank where I had been digging. The object finally showed itself to me, as if it was rewarding me for ignoring my friend and allowing him to die. I cursed it. I hated it. I didn't speak to anyone for weeks from the guilt of it all."

"That light," said Beverly. "That was the Q wasn't it?"

He nodded. "Yes, but how could I not have recognized it all those years later when it came for me?"

"They did something to your brain, that's why," said Wesley. "They must have made you forget."

Picard laughed and stood up to stretch his back and shoulders. "You're right, I suppose. As Troi said, it was a repressed memory."

"Awful, just awful," said Beverly, and to his surprise she stood up and embraced him. He hugged her back but was careful not to squeeze her too enthusiastically, remembering what Riker had told him. As she pulled back, she looked into his eyes, and her closeness was such that he had to consciously tell his body not to respond. He feared she could see the desire in his eyes, and he felt badly, because he knew it wasn't the appropriate reaction. She was only trying to comfort him.

Determined not to make the moment awkward, he shut his eyes and then hugged her again tightly, this time allowing himself only platonic thoughts; thoughts of friendship. When she pulled away again she had a curious expression on her face, and there was a look of recognition in her eyes that made him feel good. She sat back down slowly, still looking up at him, and then took his hand and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles gently. It was the first time in many years he had experienced true intimacy with another person.

He broke her gaze when Wesley spoke again. "Do you hate them?"

He thought about the question for a moment, and then sat down at the table again with them. "The Q? No, Wesley, I don't hate them. As much as they harmed me they also helped me to see and do things I never would have been able to do had I not gone with them. As much as I feel anger toward the Q they will forever be a part of me."

"Were they ever like us?"

Picard smiled. "The Q actually started out as a small creature resembling an earthworm."

"A _worm_?" Wesley was incredulous. Beverly laughed.

"Yes. The Q are very open about their origins and history," continued Picard. "They seem to find it almost amusing. The Q have always been characterized by a curiosity and a boldness that is similar to that of human beings. That may in part explain their interest in human behavior. And yes, at one point, at one stage of their evolution they were somewhat like us. It was at that stage, perhaps a good deal more advanced than we are now, that they discovered the power that they now possess. "

"What do you mean they discovered it?" asked Wesley.

"Well, their power is separate from them, although they sometimes forget this, perhaps to their detriment. But try to think of the power they wield as a technology, like an extremely advanced tricorder, for lack of a better example. But the power itself also has a sort of consciousness. It allows itself be used. But as I said, the first Q to discover the power was at least human-like. That first Q, Wesley, made a sort of pact with the power, which they now refer to as the Understanding. The power was to be used only in accordance with certain principles, which in effect is their only existing system of ethics."

"But what if one of the Q breaks the Understanding?" asked Beverly.

Picard stared at her for a moment in wide-eyed silence, as though he had never before contemplated such a possibility. "Oh, that would never happen..."

"Why not?"

"Well… no Q wants to lose the ability to wield the power, which is what would happen if the Understanding were broken."

Beverly leaned forward. "But Jean-Luc… if no Q has ever broken the Understanding, then how do you really know what the result would be?"

"I don't know…I honestly find it difficult to believe that such a thing could happen. But perhaps if such a thing ever did happen, I would have never known. Remember, I am now inconsequential to them. A failed experiment."

Beverly shook her head. "I'm not so sure about that. Maybe you are actually special to them, Jean-Luc. Not in the same way you are special to _us_...but they followed you for so long for a reason."

Picard shrugged with a weak smile. "Perhaps I shall never know…." He fell silent, and sat back in his chair. "Thank you for listening to me," he said.

"Thank you for telling us," said Beverly, touching his arm lightly, before getting up from the table.

He was watching her walk away when Wesley spoke again.

"So... Yar told me we'll be entering one of the trans warp conduits soon." He tried to sound as casual as possible. Wesley didn't know how to say it, but he was frightened that the Enterprise was now pursuing the Borg. The thought that he would have to encounter a Borg in person again made his heart race with fear and anger, when he thought about Anna.

Picard felt his mood darken suddenly. "Wesley, stay away from that woman. She isn't safe for you to be around." He had tried to keep his voice quiet, but Beverly heard mention of Yar, and wandered back to the table.

Oh," said Wesley. "I thought because she was your friend and everything…it would be okay to talk to her."

Picard inhaled sharply, but tried to make his face seem more neutral. "She's not my _friend_ , Wesley. Please, just…stay out of her way."

Wesley nodded. "Okay, sir," he agreed easily.

"Maybe you should consider taking your own advice, Jean-Luc," remarked Beverly, leaning against a nearby wall. There was an unmistakable edge to her voice. "Now where would Wesley have gotten the idea that Yar is your friend…'and everything'?" She crossed her arms over her chest, watching both of them expectantly.

Wesley laughed, at the memory of finding Yar in Picard's quarters, and then covered his mouth with his hand, looking at his father, a clear apology in his eyes. His father merely blinked and looked resigned to the fact that there was no clean way out of this one.

"Wesley, what's so funny?" Beverly demanded to know.

"Nothing, Mom. Sorry." He picked up a cup of cocoa and started drinking it, thankful for the distraction for his lips.

Beverly reddened as she studied both of them. _A conspiracy of silence_ , she thought, annoyed. "So which one of you is going to answer my question?"

Picard smiled up at her. "Beverly, it's nothing really. Wesley was under the _misapprehension_ that Yar was my friend, because, well I invited him to meet my dog for the first time, and she happened to be in my quarters—uninvited I might add."

"Jean-Luc, the innocent act is not going to work with me," Beverly said lowering her voice and sitting back down at the table. "You seem to forget that I know exactly what you and Yar were doing…because I nearly walked in on you _myself_."

Wesley coughed in surprise and choked on his cocoa. He pushed himself to his feet, and announced with a fake yawn, "I think I'm going to go to bed early."

"Wait!" Picard raised his hand in protest, and tried to get Wesley to stay, but Beverly said, "Fine," dismissively, and Wesley quickly retreated to his room. She turned back to Picard with a severe look. "Jean-Luc, who is that woman?"

"Beverly, I can't tell you…exactly who she is. Not yet."

"Why?"

"If I told you _why_ I can't tell you, I would be telling you, in effect who she is. And the more people who know, the less safe it is for the people on this ship."

"But she's someone from your past? I mean, you have a history with her, obviously."

"I know of her…."

Beverly looked into his eyes. "Yes, but who is she to _you_?"

He shook his head. "She's no one to me. No one at all."

* * *

Yar paced outside the injured Borg's prison cell on the Enterprise. It had been subdued in Engineering, in fact she had personally subdued it. Of the one thousand or so different ways to subdue a Borg drone, she knew them all. "Are you awake and listening to me?" she asked.

"We are awake," said the Borg soldier. "We are listening."

"Do you recognize me?" she asked.

The Borg hesitated. "We recognize you, but you appear different to us now. You appear primitive…a human."

"I can appear in whatever form I choose—even a primitive one. What do you plan to do with humans?" Yar asked calmly.

"The humans will be assimilated," said the Borg.

"Why?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

"Because you wish it," answered the Borg impassively.

"And who am I?" she asked, eyeing the Borg.

"You are the One and we are the Many. And you show us the way," answered the many Borg voices.

"And now I will show you the way that will allow you to grow and to improve yourselves."

"Where is this Way?" the Borg asked.

Yar smiled. "The Way is to Earth."

* * *

Thanks as always for following this story. -PP


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

* * *

"Your meddling is becoming very tiresome," said Q, flashing into the _Enterprise_ brig.

Unsurprised, Yar, turned away from the Borg prisoner. "But your omnipotence should prevent you from becoming tired, Q. Or, are you no longer omnipotent—is that the problem?" she broke into a slow grin. "And I learned how to meddle from you, Q. I would think you would be proud of me."

"Well, I'm _not_ proud of you," snapped Q. "What you are attempting is going to make inconsequential everything the Q have ever done; everything we have ever been."

"I know," said Yar. "That's really the point of it all."

* * *

Picard sat on Beverly's couch, while Beverly lay curled up at the other end, asleep. They had been talking, and now it was late, but he didn't want to leave, so he let himself drift off to sleep sitting up next to her. Every now and then his eyes cracked open slowly, and he glanced over at her, watching her body rise and fall with each breath. She looked comfortable, despite her odd position. Wesley was asleep in the other room. He hoped that they felt safe with him, and he realized now that more than anything he wanted to keep them safe. More than once he had thought about Jack. He didn't want to come between his friend and Wesley. After all, Jack had been a father to Wesley for much longer than he had. He knew that eventually they would all have to come to an arrangement between themselves that was as fair to everyone as possible. He knew that Wesley's interests would need to be at the heart of any decisions made.

He had begun to drift off again when Q appeared in the customary flash, this time in human form. Suddenly awake, Beverly sat up with a gasp, and Picard caught her tightly before she fell off the couch. She turned and looked at Q startled. "Who—who's that?"

Q immediately went into a deep bow. "Q…at your service."

Beverly continued to hold onto Picard, until he whispered to her, "It's alright…don't worry," he said. She let go of him and sat back against the couch, but grabbed his right hand in both of hers, still watching Q warily.

Q straightened, and smiled at them. He clasped his hands over his heart dramatically. "Oh how _touching_ …after so many years apart, my Picard is reunited with his true love…how sweet and unexpected…."

"What do you want Q?" Picard thundered. "And I'm not _your_ Picard!"

Q began pacing back and forth. "Perhaps you are not any longer…but you can still help us, can't you?"

"Help _you_? If you haven't noticed, we've got our hands quite full with the goddamn Borg, Q."

"Jean-Luc, what does he want with you?" Beverly asked in a low voice, afraid to take her eyes off the strange man who had just appeared in her living room. He looked human enough.

Q tilted his head and made a sympathetic clicking noise with his tongue while watching Beverly, and then smiled at Picard. "She's worried that we will take you away from her again before she has a chance to tell you how she really feels...well my dear what are you waiting for? He could be gone at any moment! No pressure of course..."

Beverly stared blankly at Q, still shocked by his sudden appearance.

"Q, stop it! Beverly don't pay any attention to him," he said.

Q sighed. "Well, since you can't read minds anymore, Captain, I thought I would save you the trouble of guessing."

"Stay out of her mind, Q," said Picard, standing up to face him. "And I'm not a captain anymore," he added.

Q smiled. "Just a temporary career change, I am sure, Picard. Why fight fate?"

"What do you _want_ , Q?"

Q stared at him, and appeared almost hurt. "For the record, I never wanted them to send you away from the Continuum, Picard. You were the only friend I've ever had, after all... and that is essentially why I gave you those three chances to return. Who knows if the others would have even let you back in...but now I see why they made you leave Picard."

"What are you talking about?"

"Perhaps you should ask me _who_ I am talking about."

"Alright then...who?"

"Our first human experiment...you know who I mean, Picard. She's caused quite a series of problems for the Q."

"And why should that matter to me, Q? It has been made very clear to me that I am no longer part of the Continuum."

"Let's just say that our problems are now the problems of humanity. You are aware that she attempted to break the Rule. In fact you are the one who caught her attempting to do so, if I recall, Picard."

"Yes, it would be hard to forget seeing her nearly dump the Earth into a black hole...but to my knowledge she disappeared not long afterward. I assumed that she was sent away from the Continuum."

"You assumed wrong, Picard. She was given a second chance to stay. By the time we did throw her out, the damage had been done. She had already broken the Understanding."

Picard's mouth dropped open. "Is that how she lost her power?"

"Oh no," said Q. "It is far worse than that: in a sense she has created her own Understanding between herself and our power and it responds best to her will now. You see she has warped the power of the Q, and now IF she is able to return to the continuum she will be the only Q with the ability to fully wield the power. And a return to the Continuum is apparently only one of her goals."

"So...why don't you just prevent her from returning to the Continuum? Surely she can't get back in if the Q don't want her there."

Q was silent.

Picard felt a chill go through him. "You can't prevent her from returning, can you?" he said with slow realization.

Q shrugged. "We don't know. Imagine _us_ not knowing something like that? Imagine how...flawed that makes us feel..." he said seeming to want to garner sympathy.

"And you are somehow concerned that I will give her my remaining power? Well you needn't worry, because it is certainly not going to happen. In fact, I am willing to forfeit it right now just to ensure she can't somehow steal it from me."

"How predictably admirable Picard, but we won't let you forfeit your power. In fact we _want_ you to use it. And after I tell you what I am about to, you will never think of giving it up again." Q nodded toward Beverly. "Do you want your wife to know what I am about to say? Of course I could erase her memories later if necessary."

Picard blushed and glanced at Beverly whose face in contrast looked suddenly drained of color. "Q...Beverly is not my wife..."

Q slapped himself lightly on the forehead. "Oh, there I go again, using my power to predict the future...it's too tempting not to use, as you may recall. _Future_ wife, I should have said…."

"Q!"

"Very well…if you are done shouting my name, I will tell you both the truth."

Picard sat back down, and took Beverly's hand again.

"Of course, you remember your brief obsession with the Borg while you were with us?"

"Yes…."

"Well once you turned your attention away from the Borg; once you stopped trying so hard to stop them, _she_ became interested in them. And she was always much more adept at using her power than you, Picard. This was shortly after she had been given her second chance to remain with us. At first, her interest in them seemed innocent enough. She intervened, just as you had, in the affairs of a lesser race. But…we realized too late, that she had done so in order to again circumvent the Rule."

"What Rule do you keep mentioning? Is that the same as the Understanding?" Beverly asked, perplexed.

Q looked horrified. " _No_ …Picard haven't you told her anything? Really, communication I am told is what makes a relationship…." When they both continued to stare at him in silence, he went on. "The Rule, as Picard knows, prevents a Q from annihilating an entire species. Believe me, it is very tempting at times to do so, when you have the capability. So the Rule is necessary. Picard recalls that he was tempted to destroy the Borg, but being a person who cares about rules, he did not. So for years he tried his best to stop them in every other way possible, at times being very creative. But eventually he gave up, realizing that resistance was, how shall I say…futile." Beverly looked at Jean-Luc and squeezed his hand.

"As Picard mentioned, he caught _her_ trying to destroy the Earth and stopped her from tossing all of you into a black hole. Had she been successful, we would have just reversed the damage, brought humanity back, but now she has complicated the matter. You see, when she became interested in the Borg she intervened in their development."

"How so?"

"Think about it, Picard…."

Picard suddenly looked up at him, remembering a girl barely out of her teens all those years ago. "Their interest in the children…."

Q smiled. "Yes, that was her touch...very subtle I think. A personal slap in the face to the Q, who she likes to believe stole her away from her depraved home world. Apparently she thought and correctly so, that we would be offended to be so crudely compared to those lifeless, relentless automatons."

"And the new interest in humans?"

"Yes," said Q. "Without her involvement, the Borg might have stayed away from the Alpha Quadrant, and by extension, humanity for another fifty years at least. But her vendetta against humanity has now been imparted on the Borg." He made a derisive noise. "She is insufferable."

"So," said Picard dully. "She was able to circumvent the Rule against destroying a species by re-designing another to do the work for her."

Q made a face. "A bit messy isn't it?"

"Messy? Q you are talking about the destruction of humanity!"

"That is exactly what I am talking about, Picard. Finally you see it! Now what do you presume to do about it?"

Picard got up quickly. "I don't know, Q. Why me?"

"Why not you, Picard?"

"Q why do I have a feeling that there is more to this even than the fate of humanity? Put simply, why the hell do you care?"

"I am trying to _tell_ you Picard, but it is clear that your mind has shrunk considerably in just a matter of days. By intervening so drastically in the Borg's development she has changed the Understanding between the Q and our power. Our ability to use our own power has been diluted by her."

Picard walked up to Q and stared him directly in the eye. "You're not concerned so much about humanity as you are your own personal welfare are you? I know you Q. And there is more to this than you have said."

Q's eyes glinted. "Perhaps, Picard. Be careful in the Delta Quadrant…but hurry back before you find your home planet in jeopardy." He disappeared then with a white flash.

* * *

"Jean-Luc, we have to get that woman off this ship," Beverly said, getting up and walking over to him. "We have to tell everyone who she really is."

"Beverly, it's not that simple."

"Jean-Luc, you have the power to send her anywhere you want, don't you?"

He laughed at that. "Yes, but then what? The Borg are still going to head for Earth because she had essentially programmed them to do so. Shouldn't I use my power to annihilate them?"

She stared at him. "Jean-Luc, you could never do that. The same ethical principles apply, whether you are with the Q or with humanity. You've got to find another way…."

"What I do know," he said. "Is that her identity cannot be revealed. Not yet. She's too dangerous. Beverly if she has frightened Q, and I think she has…her potential to cause even further destruction is limitless. If I can avoid bringing that danger upon the people on this ship, I will."

Beverly looked at the clock. It was one in the morning. She sighed. "Alright, I trust you to do what you think is right. But please tell me you haven't always known who this woman was? For goodness sake, Jean-Luc you almost—"

"I didn't know who she was right away, no. And even when I realized who she was, I had no idea she was capable of the things Q just described."

"But surely she knows you know who she is…."

He nodded. "Yes. But she doesn't know I know all that Q just told me, and she doesn't know the extent or limits of the powers I still have. She is single-minded. She sees me only as a means to an end. If she can obtain my power, you can bet that this ship and everyone on it will be the first to disappear into the void."

* * *

"Commander Data to Captain Crusher."

Jack rolled out of bed before his eyes were even open. He yawned. "What the hell is it, Data?" he asked. "Lights," he said, and his bedroom was immediately illuminated, causing him to throw his hands over his eyes. "Aaa! Lower to fifty percent," he said and the lights dimmed.

"Captain, tachyon sensors are picking up a disturbance entering the sector."

"A cloaked ship, Data?"

"Very likely, sir."

"Go to yellow alert and raise shields, Data. I'm on my way."

"Aye sir."

* * *

"Commander Worf," Jack said with a grim smile. "To what do we owe this visit? And why the secrecy?"

The Klingon Commander glowered at him on the bridge view screen. "I am here to follow you into the conduit," he said. "The cloaked approach was a necessary precaution, Captain Crusher. My crew and I have defied orders of the High Council to be here. We are in pursuit of the same Borg ship you believe stole the children from Marca II. We believe it to be the same ship that attacked our colony."

Jack nodded. "I can't say that I'm not happy to have an ally, Worf…but we don't exactly know what we are getting into here."

"We are well prepared to die," said Worf, with a shrug.

Jack laughed. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, Worf."

* * *

As quickly as the yellow alert started blinking, it seemed to end. Picard started to back toward the door. "I should go, Beverly, it's getting quite late."

She smiled at him. "Yes, and we will all need our sleep." She walked toward him slowly. She put her hands on his upper arms and moved in toward him, resting her head on his shoulder. She mumbled something into his shirt.

"What?" he asked.

"I said I don't want you to leave," she said more clearly, but her head was still propped on his shoulder facing away from his neck. He tried to inhale her scent without being too obvious.

"Beverly, I told you I am not going to leave you and Wesley again."

"I know," she said, turning her head so that her lips were centimeters from his neck. Her breath was warm and moist on his skin. "I mean I don't want you to leave this room."

Picard closed his eyes and thought about all of the things Riker had told him about self-control, which all of a sudden seemed completely unhelpful. "Oh," he said at a loss for words.

"I have to tell you something though," she said, raising her head slightly. If he had looked more closely he would have seen the guilt in her eyes, but he wasn't looking closely or thinking clearly. He couldn't help it, and at that moment he grabbed her to him and kissed her. She responded and tightened her grip on his arms, but then backed up suddenly, putting her hand over her mouth.

"Jean-Luc…after you came aboard. After the incident with the Borg in sick bay. I did something I really shouldn't have. I immediately regretted it."

He stared at her blankly. "Jean-Luc…I slept with Jack." He blinked in surprise and backed away. "You weren't yourself, Jean-Luc. And I felt so lonely. I needed someone to comfort me. I'm sorry."

A shadow fell over his face and he took another step backward.

"Will you _please_ just say something?"

He just shook his head silently and then stared down at the floor for a few seconds before looking up at her with a cold expression.

She reached out to take his hand, but he pulled away. "No," he said quietly before turning to leave.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

* * *

Yar changed into her uniform slowly and deliberately, as though it were a complicated endeavor.

Commander Elizabeth Shelby glanced at her out of the corner of her eye from a nearby couch, while she sipped her coffee and tried to concentrate on reading the morning's crew readiness reports. After rooming with Yar for a few days following the Borg battle, she was already accustomed to seeing Yar casually change into or out of her clothes in virtually any part of their now shared living space. But that didn't make Yar's habits any less distracting.

"Why so shy Commander Shelby?" said Yar, pulling on her boots. "I know for a fact those reports aren't the least bit as interesting as me. Besides, there's a rumor that you like girls."

Shelby finished her coffee with a swig and slammed her empty cup down on the table. "It's not a rumor," said Shelby, looking at Yar. "Although I like women, not girls."

Yar smiled almost playfully. "Well I think it's pretty clear that I'm a woman," she said.

"Yes, I had noticed." Shelby smiled tightly and adjusted her hair, heading for the door with her data pad in hand. "But, I prefer nice women…and _you_ are not a nice woman, Yar."

Yar shrugged, as she watched Shelby exit. She couldn't really argue with that.

* * *

Picard stepped out of Beverly's door as quickly as he could, and nearly ran down the corridor. Tears burned in his eyes, and as he steamed through the corridors he reached out on occasion with the side of his fist and struck the wall furiously. His mind raced. His skin was on fire. He wanted to flee the ship and race around the universe as a ball of light until he became too tired to go on, or better yet, he crashed into a star and was absorbed in a ball of impossibly hot energy, never to be seen or heard from again.

He slowed, as did his thoughts, as he came upon Yar leaning casually against the wall ahead of him.

"Shit," he muttered to himself. He was in no mood to deal with her games. He felt dangerous, and reckless, and knew that if Yar put in enough effort to infuriate him, he just might use his power to send her flying out of the bulkhead. She seemed to sense this, which of course, was what she wanted, and so she stepped away from the wall without hesitation.

"Avoiding me, Picard? We have unfinished business to discuss," she said, planting herself directly in his way.

"Get out of my way," he said in a low voice, ducking his head to move around her.

Yar put her palm out flat against his collarbone, stopping him short. He raised his eyes to stare through her. She studied him closely for any weakness. "Your eyes are red," she observed. She paused. "What's wrong," she inquired with mock sympathy. "Did Beverly make you cry?"

He waved her hand away, and walked past her.

"You're _weak_ , Picard," she called after him confidently. "All of these emotional connections we had no use for while we were Q have no place in our lives now that we're back among humans...when will you admit that you're not one of them anymore?"

When he didn't respond, she fell into step beside him, adopting a friendly tone. " _Nothing_ she can ever give you will replace what you had with the Q. You and I both know this. And your son...well he already has a father, doesn't he? How can you _possibly_ compete?"

He turned on her in an instant, fist poised in front of her face. "You leave them out of this!"

"That was all it took then?" She raised her chin in triumph and nodded at his fist, now encircled by a glowing white light.

He'd let his anger get the best of his control, and the power was only responding to this in kind. He gasped and pulled his arm back, just as she swung her hand up to grab the light. He staggered backwards, hiding his hand behind his back, telling himself over and over to calm down. Gradually, the light ebbed, then disappeared.

Several crew members walked by, looking at the two with cautious curiosity. Once they had passed, Yar advanced on him again. "You were about to...what? Punch me?" She laughed. "All it will take for me to steal your power is to insult the people you care about...or do I need to do more than that? Threats are so clumsy, but sometimes they do work."

He stood very still just watching her, attempting to keep his emotions level. "You're not going to win," he said.

She poked him in the chest with her index finger. "Says who?"

"Me."

She grabbed his collar with both hands, pulling him closer. She was disarmingly strong. "What's it going to take, Picard? What's it going to take for you to give up your power?"

"You'll have to kill me first," he shot back.

"That can be arranged." She let go of him, shoving him backward, then paced away. Her voice was completely calm when she spoke again. "You know, I grew up on a planet where survival was everything. When the Q came for me I'd already been fighting everyday since I was seven years old. Once I was with the Q I studied every fighting art there is to know. I'm unbeatable in a fight."

"I don't care," he said simply.

She threw such a swift punch that he didn't have time to evade it properly. White hot pain shot through the bridge of his nose. He immediately felt the rush of blood and brought the back of his hand up shakily to wipe it away from beneath his nose.

Yar smiled and examined her knuckles briefly. "Mad yet?"

He coughed and stepped around her again. "That's not going to work either, now get the hell out of my way."

Yar watched as he quickly departed. "It's just a matter of time, Picard," she called after him. "If you won't deliver it to me willingly, I'll do what I have to do..."

* * *

 **A few hours later...**

Beverly stood silently next to Geordi's bed side. Across from her was the Chief Medical Officer, Mark LaForge, Geordi's husband. The Chief Engineer still hadn't awoken from the coma he had fallen into as the result of a head injury. Because LaForge's brain activity was so subdued, it was impossible to know how full a recovery he would make, until he actually woke up and began to interact with his environment. Most of the brain damage Geordi had suffered at the hands of the Borg soldier had been repaired by one of Starfleet's top brain surgeons. Unfortunately the brain surgeon who had been charged with bringing the engineer back from the brink was also his husband. Beverly could only imagine the helplessness Mark felt, and it was clear that the stress and pain was beginning to take its toll.

Suddenly, Mark let his hand drop to the bed, and the chart he was reading clattered to the floor. Beverly rushed around to the other side, and picked up the chart. She put her hand on Mark's shoulder and squeezed. "Mark? Tell me what I can do to help," she said, concerned.

Doctor LaForge put his left hand into the pocket of his lab coat and stared absently down at the bed. He took Geordi's hand with his other hand, and then looked at Beverly. "Beverly, I don't think I can perform my duties right now," he said shakily. "I'm going to talk to Jack…but I have to ask you to take over for me. No one else on board knows this job the way you do."

Beverly embraced him tightly. "Of course I will, Mark. I'm sure that Jack will let you take all of the time you need. And I know…I know Geordi will come back to us soon." When she pulled away from her friend there were tears on his cheeks.

* * *

"Bev, as happy as I am to have you as my CMO again, if I lose one more crewmember I don't know what I'm going to do," said Jack, from behind his ready room desk. Beverly sat across from him. "The number of wounded is just staggering, although thanks to you, Mark and the rest of the medical staff many have already been patched up and have returned to duty. But Riker's crew is still traumatized by the loss of their ship, and tensions are on the edge. Space for living quarters is so tight, and with this roommate situation, I know the crew must feel like they are back at the Academy again."

"I know. I also know that Deanna Troi has been instrumental in helping to alleviate some of the grief that both crews have gone through," said Beverly. "But we don't have enough counselors to deal with what we've gone through."

Jack nodded. "I know…and now we're asking them to gather themselves up again and plunge into the Delta Quadrant. We're truly about to go where no human has gone before. I can't help but wonder if this is a fool's errand, Beverly. What if those children are already dead? What if we can't find them?"

"It's not foolish to try and save our own, Jack. And this is what our crew is capable of, Jack. You have to trust that your crew trusts you, Jack. They are used to being pushed to their professional capacities."

"Not like this…so much is uncertain right now."

"Jean-Luc told me he doesn't think the Borg will kill the children, and I think we should trust him, Jack."

Jack sighed. "I know. He's the only one of us with any idea of what we will find on the other side of this conduit. I only hope that once there we can find the children and get ourselves back. Something tells me though that this is just the tip of the iceberg with the Borg."

Beverly looked at him gravely. "We can't know the future, Jack. But we can be glad we all have each other right now. We have to be grateful for what we have."

He laughed and stood up from his desk. "You're right," he said walking around to the front of his desk and leaning against it. He stood looking down at her. "I know things between us are changing…rapidly. I think you know that I still love you…."

She looked up at him. "I still love you too, Jack."

He frowned. "But…you love him more?"

She got up from her chair. "It's not that easy to explain, Jack. Your feelings can't turn off like a switch and neither can mine. But, yes I do have feelings for Jean-Luc. I'm trying to be honest with the both of you."

Jack nodded, but stared at the wall. "What about Wesley?"

Beverly picked up her data pad from Jack's desk and held it to her tightly. "Wesley is having a hard time, Jack. I can't get him to open up to me about what happened with Anna. I'm worried that he is closing himself off."

"Hmm," said Jack not sounding very surprised. "Just like Jean-Luc….I'll try and talk to him. But has Jean-Luc tried to talk to him about Anna?"

Beverly hesitated. "I hope he will…the last time I saw him, we didn't exactly end on the right note."

Jack decided he didn't want to hear about Beverly and Jean-Luc's intimate conversations, so he didn't ask. "Well, that shouldn't have any bearing on how he relates to his son, Bev. He needs to figure out how he is going to be a father to Wesley."

"I think…he might be unsure of how to do that. He recognizes that you've been a father to Wesley. I don't think he wants to confuse Wesley, and he doesn't want to hurt you. He's still adjusting to his new life with us, Jack. It's going to take time."

 _Doesn't want to hurt me_ , Jack thought dully. _Too late_. He shrugged. "I'm not going to get in the way," he said shortly. "But Wesley knows I am here for him."

"I know, Jack."

* * *

"Warp efficiency is up to 90 percent," said Wesley, fiddling with something in his hand. "I know you would say that's not good enough, but after the attack we were really crippled," he said. "This is the best we can do for now—without you." He gazed at Geordi's placid face, eyes closed to everything around him. It was strange to see Geordi's eyes, shut though they were. His Visor had been stolen by the Borg drone that had attacked him, and Data was still manufacturing a new one for him, with upgrades.

"Wait until you have your new Visor. It's got a cool look and Data is upgrading it, so you will be able to see in additional frequencies. I told Data to hurry up, since I know you will be awake soon. I would help him, but I think he'll do a better job on his own."

Wesley stood up and opened Geordi's hand, placing the tiny model ship in his palm. "I made you this," he said watching LaForge's face for any twitch or sign of recognition. But there was none. Closing Geordi's fingers around the ship, he patted his friend on the shoulder. "See you later, Geordi," he said, turning to leave.

* * *

Picard ran three miles as fast as he could on the holodeck, and then stopped, not for lack of energy, but because he couldn't even concentrate enough to do a simple thing such as putting one foot in front of the other. "End program," he shouted, and tore off his sweaty shirt, throwing it to the deck, as the black and gold grid snapped into place. Beverly's words… _I slept with Jack,_ wouldn't stop echoing through his head for more than a few seconds, and when they did, he saw Yar's face mocking his every move. Angrily he picked up his shirt and stepped out of the holodeck.

Not bothering to put his t-shirt back on, he wandered through the ship's corridors. He turned a few heads, but by now he had developed a reputation onboard as the eccentric ex-captain, who had returned from mysterious parts unknown a few weeks earlier. It was rumored that he had been involved in the battle with the three Borg ships, but to what extent, few knew.

"Captain!" He turned at the sound of jogging steps and Wesley Crusher's voice behind him.

He tried to smooth the anger out of his face as much as possible. There was no reason to take any of his jealousy out on his son. "Hello, Wesley."

Wesley studied his father's face and could see that he was in a bad mood, but more than that, he looked like someone had punched him...hard. "Did you just come from a run?" he asked.

Picard nodded, and slapped his shirt into his hand absently. "What are you up to Wesley?"

"I…I don't know I've just been wandering around all morning, not sure why….uh, what happened to your nose?"

"I broke it this morning before breakfast...don't you have school today?"

"No, sir. Dad—I mean Captain Crusher canceled school and most other civilian activities until this whole thing with the Delta Quadrant is sorted out."

Picard looked at him. "Wesley, you don't have to feel strange about calling Jack your Dad around me. He is your dad."

"Yeah, but so are you…I mean I'm still not sure what to call you. So I just call you sir, or Captain, if that's okay."

"Wesley…you should call me whatever feels right to you," said Picard.

Wesley looked around him distractedly, hoping no one was listening to him. "Um…can I talk to you about something? There's an observation deck over there," he said pointing.

"Of course."

* * *

Wesley and Picard sat on the observation deck, which was empty, except for the two of them. They sat gazing out at the stars in silence for a few minutes before Wesley finally spoke. "Do you ever get scared?"

Picard frowned and looked at him. "Of course I do," he said.

"It doesn't seem like it. When you beamed over to the _Hood_ were you scared then?"

Picard shrugged. "I don't know really. I was very focused on my goal, Wesley. Fear has its place, but it doesn't always help to get the job done."

Wesley looked down. "How do you do that? I mean, how do you put the fear aside?"

Picard shook his head. "I wish I knew, so that I could tell you."

"Mom said that you always know how to hide your feelings. And she told me she doesn't want me to be like that."

Picard felt a flash of anger at the mention of Beverly, but quickly brushed it aside. He sighed. "I suppose…I don't want you to be like that either, Wesley. Certainly, you shouldn't try to emulate some things about me, just because I'm your father. I have many faults, Wesley, as your mother knows. Why don't you just try and be you?" Wesley gave him a small smile and then they both fell silent for a few moments.

"Have you ever been to the Delta Quadrant?"

Picard turned to look at him carefully. "Yes, I have. When I was a Q….Wesley, are you worried about us entering the Delta Quadrant?"

Wesley looked at Picard unsure of what he should say. Picard smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's perfectly natural to be afraid of the unknown. You will be one of the first humans to go to such a place. Of course, it is a frightening thing."

"What if I have to face a Borg again? I just keep thinking of Anna and how I wasn't able to stop that Borg from killing her."

"Not because you didn't try, Wesley. You tried your best."

"I know…but it keeps going through my head over and over."

"I know you are going to feel guilty no matter what I say to you…but you have to come to realize that the circumstances were not within your control. You and Anna both rushed to the aid of a young child and Anna was killed. She made a choice, just as you did. It's not your fault, Wes."

Wesley nodded slowly and then suddenly grabbed him into a hug. "I'm glad you're back."

Picard returned his embrace. "I'm glad too."

* * *

After talking to Wesley, he had returned to his quarters for a shower and then had decided to pay his friend a visit, feeling somewhat better. He was aware of the selfishness of his actions, as the rest of the crew prepared busily to jump into the Delta Quadrant he was preoccupied with his personal life. But he didn't care. He needed to get his mind and emotions in order if he was to be any help at all to these people.

A few minutes later, he stood with his hands draped behind his back, glancing around Riker and Troi's quarters. He couldn't help but notice they were a good deal more spacious than his own.

Riker turned to look at him from across the room where he stood at the replicator. "Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a cigar?" he said with a smile.

"No, I'm cutting back on the smoking," said Picard seriously. "Beverly doesn't approve of such things," he added. "Perhaps a cup of Earl Grey tea though?"

"How do you like it?"

" _Hot,"_ said Picard, as if it should have been obvious. A few moments later, Riker limped over to him with the cup of hot tea, and gestured for him to sit down in the living room area.

Riker sat down across from him very slowly, and by all appearances very painfully. He touched his nose and pointed at Picard's swollen face. "Who did you piss off this morning, or is that not the right question to ask?"

"Definitely not the right question," said Picard.

"Okay. So...then to what do I owe this surprise visit?" Riker asked. "It's _Mr._ Picard now, right? Now that you've resigned from our ranks."

Picard sipped his tea. "I think there are already more than enough captains on this ship," he said dryly.

Riker made a face and waved at him dismissively. "Ahhh...what a bunch of crap. You know now more than ever we need good captains in the fleet. And you're a great one. So why did you resign?"

Picard shrugged. "I have my own reasons, Riker."

Riker's eyes narrowed, but he couldn't help but smile. "Oh, do you, Picard?"

Just then, Counselor Troi walked into the apartment. She put her hands on her hips and stared at them. "After all you two have been through together don't you find it strange that you are not yet on a first name basis? All I have heard for days is 'Riker' this and 'Picard' that. A bit odd, don't you think?"

They both looked at her blankly. "No," they said at the same time, and then returned to their conversation. Troi shook her head and walked over to the food replicator.

"So," said Riker. "You're here because…" he prompted.

"Well, I wanted to see how you were recovering," said Picard.

"Oh, well, as you can see I won't be winning any foot races against you right now," Riker said shifting his legs uncomfortably.

"Or ever," clarified Picard with a small smile. "But it is good to see you out of sick bay and that you are up and around at least…."

Riker grinned. "And…what else? You need more advice, don't you? Come on, what did you do now?"

"Bear in mind he has absolutely no training as a counselor, and very poor listening skills," Troi commented from across the room, as she sat down at the kitchen table and began eating a sandwich.

Picard shifted anxiously, and nodded in Troi's direction. "Um…"

Riker smiled. "It's okay," he reassured Jean-Luc. "You can say anything in front of her." He shrugged, his grin widening. "I'm just going to tell her everything you say to me anyway…."

Picard stared at him astonished.

"Well, she is my wife," Riker reminded him. "And frankly it's impossible keeping anything from her; as you know she is an empath…so, spill it, Picard.

Picard glanced over at Troi who stopped chewing her sandwich long enough to smile at him before returning to her meal.

Jean-Luc took a deep breath. "I tried to do as you instructed me, Riker, but it seems I had reason to be jealous after all," said Picard, in a low voice.

Riker leaned back on the couch. "What happened?"

"Beverly told me that she slept with Jack," he said just as quietly, although instinctively he knew that whispering wasn't going to keep Troi from hearing his thoughts.

Riker sat forward and scratched his chin, trying to think of something helpful to say. His beard was growing back in. Luckily for him Deanna seemed not to have noticed yet.

"Actually I have noticed," she said from the table, now reading a book. "We'll talk later."

Picard turned to look at her in surprise, but she hadn't looked up from her book, and he turned back to Riker questioningly. Riker appeared sympathetic. "That's rough. When did she sleep with him?"

"After everyone except for you accused me of murdering the Borg in sick bay," said Picard. "She said she needed comfort."

Riker shrugged. "Maybe she did."

Picard slapped his knees in frustration. "Is that all you have for me? I don't know what to do, Riker. I can't focus. I'm like a confused teenager. And we're about to do something incredibly difficult. Entering the Delta Quadrant…well let's just say that we don't know where we will end up. This conduit is a new one the Borg must have created after I was expelled by the Q. I need to be alert, very alert, if I am to help guide the ship through Borg space."

"Okay, I get it. You're not focused and you need to be. Hell, _we_ need you to be," Riker admitted. "So did you try and go running, like we talked about?"

Picard laughed. "Yes. The first time I had some type of panic attack and then today, I couldn't focus enough to run more than a few miles."

Riker sipped his drink and leaned back. "I see why you've returned to me for more advice, then," he said, assuming a sage expression. Deanna snickered softly from the table nearby.

"Picard, look at it this way. You were basically an alien when she slept with Jack, and she was probably substituting him for you, if you really think about it. As much as it hurts both of you for her to say it, she's trying to be honest with you. She didn't have to tell you," said Riker. _Not bad_ , Deanna encouraged him in his head.

Picard looked down at his hands and nodded. "You're right. I just can't seem to get the image of…of _them_ out of my head. But at the same time, I only want her more now," he admitted.

Riker pointed at him. "Until you tell her that, no amount of running on the holodeck is going to resolve your problem."

* * *

 _They were in Borg space, and outside the ship floated the bodies of the children they had been sent to find. The children had been altered, and crude black and metallic implants stood out on their pale skin as they floated on the main viewer of the bridge. Picard sat in the captain's chair, but the rest of the crew was dead. Except for his navigator. Yar turned to look at him with a grin and a salute. "Mission accomplished, Captain Q. Where to now?"_

Picard woke up from the horrible dream, gasping. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. He felt the bed next to him. He was alone, of course. Grabbing a pillow, he hugged it to his chest and rolled onto his side. He imagined for a moment that it was Beverly, and that she was hugging him back. He buried his face in the pillow imagining that he could smell her, until it seemed to him that he really could. He could even feel her touching him, and he curled up tighter, feeling the familiar pressure of arousal. But as he imagined her in his mind he could only see her being touched and loved by Jack, and she didn't need him; not at all.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, everyone. And I enjoy reading your reviews, too, thanks. ;)**


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

* * *

"We need something additional to protect us against the Borg. Something to take away some of the advantage they have over us," said Jack. Around him sat Riker, Walker, Shelby, Yar and Picard. "I've been thinking... I am considering asking Commander Worf for his assistance."

Picard nodded and broke into a slow smile. "You want to see if you can use his bird of prey's cloaking device," he said. "I like that idea," he said.

"I thought you might," Jack said, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Too bad it's illegal for a Federation ship to use a cloaking device. Don't tell me you forgot about that while you were away, Jean-Luc," Walker said.

"Well," said Riker, "as long as the device isn't actually on board our ship...we're not breaking any laws…technically."

"We can sneak in alongside Worf's ship, the _Batleh_ ," Shelby agreed. "We'll have to fly in tight formation, and we've got to find a way to enable the bird of prey to expand its cloaking field. Data and I can work on a plan to do so."

"Assuming Worf will even agree," said Jack.

"The cloaking device draws its power from the forward deflector shield, which is why they can't raise their shields when they're cloaked," said Shelby.

Yar leaned toward Shelby. "Great thinking," she said with a sarcastic wink. "But they can't fire either while cloaked. Are you proposing to send two invisible but defenseless ships traveling into Borg territory?"

Riker smiled. "If we re-route the power for the cloaking device through the _Enterprise_ deflector shields—which are superior anyway, maybe we can power the cloaking device allowing the _Batleh_ the opportunity to fire its photon torpedoes as needed."

"Allowing us both the ability to fire while cloaked," agreed Shelby, glaring at Yar who smiled dangerously at her.

Picard pushed himself up out of his chair. "While Shelby and Data come up with feasible plan to implement this, I will beam over to the _Batleh_ and convince Worf that this is a good idea."

"You sound _awfully_ confident," Yar commented.

"I am," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Those Klingons still think you killed their Borg prisoner. You'll be lucky if they don't shoot you out of an airlock, Picard…or worse," Yar added with a smile. Picard briefly flashed back to their moment in the corridor when he had seriously considered doing the same to her.

"I would expect that you would be more invested in getting through Borg space safely, Yar. You're just as vulnerable as the rest of us. Yet, you don't seem the least bit concerned," observed Walker, watching her carefully.

"Speaking of Borg prisoners, Yar, have you made any progress with the one you captured in Engineering?" Riker asked, turning to her with a pointed look.

She shook her head impassively. "None at all," she said.

Still standing, Picard folded his arms over his chest and looked at her skeptically. "What exactly have you tried to do with it?"

She shot him a look. "I've questioned it," she said sounding bored. "Would you believe it doesn't have much to say?"

"I thought you were supposed to be the expert on the Borg," Shelby said, her eyes narrowing.

Yar laughed, genuinely amused. "Oh, I a _m_..."

"Well then what is their next move?" Walker questioned. "What is the significance of them stealing those children?"

"Why are you trying to interrogate me? Do I look like a Borg to you? Why don't you ask Picard? He's the ex-Q, who pretends to know everything," she added. Picard turned his gaze to her, which she returned defiantly.

"I'm asking _you_ , "Walker said still glaring at Yar.

She stood up. "And you seem to forget…I don't answer to you, or anyone else on this ship," she said easily and walked out of the conference room.

* * *

Picard materialized on the Klingon ship the _Batleh_. He had absolutely no plan, and the foolishness of this became clear to him right away.

Worf and three of his officers faced him menacingly. "You want to do _what_?" Worf growled, after he'd tried to explain the potential partnership. "Klingons have never revealed our cloaking technology to any outsider."

"It seems a good time to me, to break with tradition," said Picard quietly, deliberately focusing his eyes only on Worf. Behind him a female Klingon officer growled at him angrily. He decided it best not to ask what her problem was. He soon found out anyway.

"Why should we trust you? You destroyed our prisoner and you owe us," the female Klingon snapped.

"Krala, my mate," said Worf, glancing back at her and then at Picard. "She is…not happy with you."

"I see that," said Picard trying to maintain an even expression. "And if I were to re-pay you for the loss of your prisoner, would you agree to share the technology with us?"

"How would you re-pay us?" Worf asked warily.

"We currently have a Borg prisoner aboard our ship…I would be willing to exchange it in return for your cooperation."

Worf scratched his beard. After a moment he said, "I am willing to consider it. We both have the same goal of tracking down these Borg. And you are the only outsider I have ever not wanted to shoot."

Picard's triumphant smile faded as Krala hissed something at Worf in Klingon. Picard was fluent in Klingon and several other languages because of his years with the Q; and so he understood. And he didn't like what he heard.

"The prisoner was under her watch when we loaned it to your people for study…. As an additional term, Krala demands the return of her honor," said Worf.

Picard took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He dropped his arms by his sides, as Krala stepped out to face him, clenching her enormous fists. Planting his feet firmly, he waited for the punch. What he didn't expect was an elbow to his temple, which was much worse and sent him flying backwards, landing with a loud slap onto the transporter pad. "Energ…energize," he slurred groggily, before letting his head drop.

* * *

The Officer at Ops suddenly turned to address Jack. "Captain, I read a transporter beam from the brig. The Borg prisoner has just been beamed off of the Enterprise, sir."

"What the hell?" Jack jumped up from the command chair. He turned as the turbo lift doors opened and Picard walked onto the bridge. He was bleeding from a cut above his left eye. Despite his sad appearance, and unsteady gait he broke into a victorious smile.

"Jean-Luc, what the hell happened over there?" Jack demanded.

"Success," said Picard. "The schematics for the _Batleh's_ cloaking device should be uploading now."

Jack pointed at him, outraged. "Did you give them our prisoner?"

"I did us a favor. They wanted payback for what they _think_ I did to the Borg prisoner who died in our sick bay. Besides, Jack, where we're going, having a Borg prisoner on board isn't exactly helpful."

Jack stared at him angrily for a few more moments. "Fine, Jean-Luc. You did what you felt you had to do," he said turning around and walking back to his chair to sit down. "And I don't even want to know how you got that," he said gesturing to Picard's cut eye.

"Jack…."

"I appreciate your results, Jean-Luc. But I don't have to like your methods," Jack snapped, still facing forward.

* * *

 **Several hours later…**

"We're alongside the _Batleh_ , Captain," said the officer at the helm.

"Stand by to activate the device through our forward deflector shield grid," said Jack Crusher. He hoped this plan would work, but he also knew that if necessary they would need to break connection with the Klingon ship at a moment's notice during battle. The power drain would also be considerable. But at least they would be cloaked for at least part of the journey.

"Sir, power levels are at full," said Wesley from one of the science stations. Jack smiled slightly at the sound of his son's voice. He had asked to be up on the bridge for the entry into the conduit, and although Jack had been hesitant, Wesley had been very insistent, as though he was trying to prove something to himself.

"Commander Worf, activate when ready," said Jack. In answer the lights on the bridge dimmed momentarily before returning to normal."

"Sensors confirm both ships are now cloaked," announced Data from Ops. "We should be able to maintain this state for several hours, Captain."

Jack tried to settle back in his seat, but the tension was making the muscles on his back crawl. "You have the coordinates for the conduit?"

"Yes, sir, course laid in for trans warp conduit at sector 231. The Klingon ship has set the same coordinates, sir," Data added.

"Commander Worf, we'll go to warp on my mark. One, two, three, mark."

* * *

Jack Crusher felt as though he was swimming upward through a thick mass of seaweed floating in a cold ocean. Pressure inside his head made his ears pop uncomfortably. He tried to bark an order to the helm, but no sound came out of his mouth. Data turned to look at him and the android's head appeared to be elongated into a bizarre oval shape. Data was saying something, but again no sound emitted from his lips either. Jack glanced around at the rest of his crew, and their bodies seemed to stretch down through the deck and up through the top of the bridge.

Suddenly, they dropped out of warp on the other side of the conduit, and it was as though they hit a wall. Jack tumbled out of his seat and rolled to the floor. He scrambled to his feet. "Wesley," he rasped. "Are you alright?"

Wesley stood up from his post. "Yeah, Dad, I'm alright," he confirmed. They both turned their attention to the front of the bridge then, at the sound of the helmsman screaming.

Picard was in his quarters when he heard the screams outside in the hallway, and he burst from his room. Crew members were staggering through the hallways, screaming, crying and vomiting. Avoiding the crowds of hysterical people, he ran to an observation deck and saw immediately, knew instantly where they were. A dismembered arm drifted by the window outside, and he had the horrible sensation of smelling rotting flesh. Choking back bile, he rushed to a wall panel.

"Jack! Jack! Do you have solar shields on this ship?"

"Jean-Luc, what is this place? My God, I've never seen anything…."

"Jack, listen to me, shut down the main viewer and don't look outside, dammit. Now raise the solar shields. They'll obscure visibility won't they?"

"Y-yes," answered Jack.

* * *

Picard hit the panel again. "Attention _Enterprise_ crew," he said over the ship-wide com. "This is Captain—this is Jean-Luc Picard. You must do as I tell you. Your sickness and ill feelings will pass. Stay away from all view ports and do not look outside of the ship until further notice."

He caught his breath, pausing as a severed limb floated past out of the corner of his eye. "Listen to me. Many years ago, a race of beings called the Paya visited this area. The Paya were a peaceful race of thinkers who were so horrified by the Borg and a future dominated by them, that their historians catalogued all of the atrocities committed by the Borg. They deliberately placed horrible images of what the Borg had done right here in this sector, calling it the Shoals of Despair. The Shoals were designed to discourage travelers from going any further—any closer to Borg territory. The Paya were merely doing their part to slow the advance of the Borg. You must remember that these are just images, a sort of warning-nothing more."

 _Nothing like what is actually awaiting us if we go any further,_ he thought. The fact that they had emerged from the conduit inside the Shoals of Despair meant that they were far closer to the Borg home world than he had anticipated. A slow panic enveloped his mind.

He hit the panel again and immediately thought of Wesley, hoping he was not afraid. Looking cautiously over at the view port he could see a grayish film hung over the outside windows of the ship and he could no longer see the horrific images. He turned and left the observation lounge at a near run.

Wesley wasn't answering at Jack's quarters, and he didn't have the code to get in. If Wesley was in there, he would have already answered the door. "Dammit," he shouted at himself, and spun around to run in the opposite direction.

* * *

He reached Beverly's quarters and hit the emergency override button on the door frame still running at full speed. She was inside, and, and she turned to face him in the dark.

"Where's Wesley?" he asked, out of breath.

She walked toward him, emerging from the shadows. The light was so low, he couldn't read her expression, but he felt something was different. I just called him. He's with Jack…on the bridge," said Beverly. "He wanted to be up there when we entered the Delta Quadrant and Jack told him he could sit at a science station. He's safe."

"The solar shields are up. He won't be able to see what's outside," said Picard, feeling his breathing start to even out.

"Thank, you," she said, reaching out to caress the side of his face. She brought her other hand up to take hold of his face. "What the hell happened to your nose?"

"I broke it," he said simply.

" _Who_ broke it?" she demanded with quiet outrage. She touched above his left eye where Krala had slugged him, and he winced. "I let you out of my sight for a few hours..."

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter." He peered at her for her reaction. She seemed less afraid than he was. _Perhaps she is beginning to trust me. I only hope her trust is well-placed._ She didn't seem as upset with him as he was with himself. Only he, and of course, Yar, knew what they were getting into, but he wasn't so sure anymore that it was better to know everything there was to know. "I should have remembered about the shoals. Now everyone has been needlessly frightened," he said wondering if the guilt was apparent in his voice.

"No, you can't know everything, Jean-Luc," she put her arms around his back and pulled him closer. He didn't resist. He could feel the air around them grow still and warm. Everything was quiet except for the sound of their breathing. He felt her heart beating next his own. She put her hand on the back of his neck. "I want you," she said, looking into his eyes.

"But what…what about Jack?" he questioned, even as he felt his body begin to respond to her words. "I keep visualizing you with him, and he's touching you. It's driving me mad," he said bringing his face down to her neck.

Her voice was low and husky. "I don't want him to touch me, Jean-Luc, I want you," she said, taking his hand and placing it under her shirt. She pulled him toward her until her back touched the wall. They both let out a gasp, feeling that whatever was happening between them was no longer within their control. Moving his hips against hers, he slid his hand lower, grazing her abdomen, until he rested it between her legs. He looked into her eyes as if asking a silent question. In answer, she kissed him and pushed into his hand.

"It's been a long time since I…." he trailed off and then sucked in a breath as she grabbed his backside and pulled him even closer.

"I'll help you remember what to do," she assured him.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

* * *

"The Borg is now talking," Worf said plainly, almost as soon as his image appeared on the view screen. "You have my permission to beam aboard. You may wish to hear what it has to say..."

"We'll be right over," Jack said, as Worf cut the connection. How had they gotten the Borg to speak, he wondered? "Captain Crusher to Captain Riker."

"Riker here."

"Can you spare Commander Shelby? The Borg prisoner Jean-Luc handed over to the Klingons is now talking and I would like to take an away team over right away."

"Of course," came Riker's reply. There was a pause. "Are you planning on beaming over as well, Captain?"

"Yes," said Jack. "And Captain, if you are feeling up to filling in for me here on the bridge..."

"I'll be right there," said Riker, and Jack could almost hear the happiness in the man's voice. He knew what it could be like to long for a return to duty.

Jack smiled himself and stood up. "Data, I need you with me." The android nodded and rose from his seat at Ops. He turned to Wesley, who was operating a subspace scanner at the science station. "Sorry Wes, but I'm going to need you to go back to our quarters. Your mother should be back on duty soon and I need you safe."

"Aye sir," said Wesley, getting up from his post reluctantly.

* * *

 _"Commander Shelby, Agent Yar, and Mr. Picard please report to transporter room 3."_

Startled by the sound of Data's voice drifting through her quarters, Shelby practically fell out of bed trying to loosen herself from the grip of Yar's leg which had been wrapped around her waist. Shelby stumbled around the room gathering her items of clothing, which had been carelessly tossed aside. She was used to dressing quickly, but not usually under these circumstances.

Yar sat up in bed with the sheet wrapped around her casually.

"Well, at least we were finished," she shrugged, watching with mild amusement as Shelby pulled her boots on almost frantically.  
"You look much better with your hair down, you know," commented Yar. "Less straight-laced. Although you might want to run a brush through it at least before someone suspects you actually know how to have fun."

Shelby scowled, straightening her uniform. "Are you coming or not?"

Yar yawned. She supposed she should go along with the away team to continue to keep up appearances. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to appear concerned for the welfare of these people. Soon, she would have to make her move. Picard knew her identity, but was in denial about what it meant. The others, it was clear, couldn't stand her. Strange, she thought, Picard had so recently been in a similar position and yet now he seemed think himself one of them again. But he was wrong, and he would eventually regret his attempts to rejoin the world of mortals.

Standing up, she began to get dressed. She looked over at Shelby, and for a fleeting moment felt something, pity perhaps for this human. Certainly nothing approaching affection entered her mind. Such things had been chased from her heart before she had reached the age of ten. Shelby smiled slightly, perhaps remembering their recent enjoyment, but as she watched her, Yar began to think about something else.

Picard thought he was so smart. And he was never going to willingly give up his power to her. But perhaps he could be tricked into using his power. She was almost certain that if she was in the vicinity of the power of Q when it was used, she would be able to co-opt it; and bring it under her control. The power wanted to surrender to her control as much as she wanted to control it. If that happened, she believed that she would be able to re-enter the Continuum, and take her rightful place among the Q. And if they didn't want her, well they would be very sorry.

A look of uncertainty and suspicion suddenly passed over Shelby's face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Yar simply smiled back, before exiting the room.

* * *

He didn't ever want to stop kissing her, and it seemed that she felt the same. As they lay on the floor, their bodies interlocked, the kissing became a wonderfully lazy intermission. There was no rush, until things between them inevitably became more urgent, and their mouths were forced apart only by the need to breathe more freely. They repeated this pattern over and over, and had completely lost track of time when Data's voice interrupted, calling the away team to transporter room 3.

They separated, and then Picard immediately came back to her nestling his forehead between her breasts as he hugged her waist tightly. Beverly stroked the back of his head, breathing deeply, trying to catch her breath.

"Apparently I have to leave now," said Picard, sounding muffled.

"What's going on? Where are you transporting to?" she breathed.

He rolled away onto his back. "I have no idea…." He sat up and glanced around for his clothes in confusion. Yes, they had started over near the door, where their clothes lay together in a jumbled pile. He looked down as her hand dropped onto his thigh. "Oh, no don't start _that_ again," he said, with mock horror. "I'll _never_ get to the transporter room at this rate."

She started laughing, and sat up herself. Putting a hand on his upper back, she leaned her head on his shoulder as they sat side by side. "Be careful with Yar. I don't trust her," said Beverly, turning her head to kiss him lightly on the shoulder.

He turned to look at her seriously, and then suddenly grabbed her around the waist pulling her back down to the floor. She let out a yelp and then they both fell laughing together. Still laughing, he pushed himself up again and stood to his feet. Reaching down, he pulled her up into a tight embrace before letting her go. "I'd better get out of here while I still can," he said, and jogged over to the pile of mixed clothes. He reached down and picked up a boot dangling it in the air questioningly. "Good gracious, what size boot do you wear?"

"Jean-Luc, that's your boot, give me a break," she said laughing again, as he tossed her some of her clothes.

As he pulled on his underwear and pants, he watched her get dressed. "Go stand over there," he ordered pointing far away into the kitchen. "I can't concentrate with you looking so beautiful," he said covering his eyes.

She rolled her eyes at his silliness and pulled her uniform on, still laughing lightly. "Really, Jean-Luc, be careful," she said, trying to convey that she really wanted to be serious.

He smiled. "You too," he said, as the door opened and he backed out into the corridor.

"By the way… for someone who's been out of commission for so long, you really have a great memory," she called after him.

* * *

The rest of the away team was already waiting for him in the transporter room. Jack turned around as he entered. "What's going on?" Picard asked.

Jack gestured at the transporter pad. "The Klingons say the Borg prisoner is now talking. Not clear how they were able to get it to speak when we couldn't," he said giving Yar a pointed look. "Anyway, we're going over," he said irritably.

Picard nodded and stepped up onto the transporter pad next to Yar. She stared at him with a small smile. "Is that rug burn on your face?"

Picard shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back, unable to keep from smiling as the transporter beam took them away in an instant.

* * *

"So you did have an alcove after all," said Picard, looking sideways at Worf.

"Yes," said Worf, gazing at the Borg prisoner, who was standing inside a mechanized cocoon-like frame. A clear partition separated it from Worf and the away team. "Once we were able to replicate a suitable power source for the alcove, we were able to create an environment similar to that of a Borg ship."

"So you tricked the Borg into thinking it was back with the Borg?" asked Shelby, whose hand rested on her holstered phaser.

Worf shrugged. "Only for purposes of allowing it to recharge itself. Apparently it continues to receive subspace transmissions from the Borg Collective. However, we cannot tell whether it knows it has been separated from the Collective."

"It has been our experience that the Borg have only minimal levels of self-awareness," said Data, running his tricorder over the Borg. "The Borg is in far greater physical condition than it was aboard our ship, Captain. Commander Worf's alcove appears to be working."

"Where did you get an alcove?" asked Yar.

Worf glowered at her. "I have no intention of telling you that," he said gruffly.

Jack folded his arms over his chest. "Enough wasting time everyone, let's get in there and speak to it. Data, monitor its life-signs."

"Aye sir."

Picard walked up to the Borg. "Tell us about the young humans taken from Marca II. Where are they?" he demanded, going for a direct approach.

The Borg shifted its pale face toward him with a characteristic jerking motion. "Young humans were not ready," said the Borg.

"What do you mean they weren't ready?" asked Shelby, gripping her phaser instinctively. She didn't like the sound of the children being talked about in the past tense.

"The young ones are defiant. Their will must be broken," said the Borg.

Picard's eyes narrowed. "So they are alive. Are the human children in service to the Borg?"

"No," said the Borg. Picard visually examined the Borg's arm and saw that it was an engineer or repair drone, based on its appearance.

"Why not?" Picard demanded.

"They are not ready. They are not suitable. They resist."

"Of course they resist," said Picard. "They are human and do not want to be held against their will."

"The young ones adapt well to the implants. But still they refuse assimilation. Why do they resist?"

Picard walked away from the Borg. He was beginning to understand what it was telling them. "Where are the children?"

Servo motors on the Borg's metal appendages began to whir and spin. "The young ones are not ready. To service the Collective they must be made ready…."

"It's not answering your question," Shelby snapped.

"No," said Picard. "It is." He gestured for them all to step out of the room.

"What is a maturation chamber?" Jack asked once Picard began to explain.

"Maturation chambers are where the Borg sometimes store the young of the beings they capture for assimilation. Many times these chambers will be kept on board the Borg vessels. However, these children numbered about fifty. I don't think most ships have the capacity to carry that many maturation chambers, or at least it's not the most efficient means of doing so."

"So if they're still alive, but they are not on board a ship…." Shelby trailed off.

"That conduit spit us out in the middle of the Shoals of Despair, which we've now passed through," said Picard. "That means the children are very likely down on the Borg home world, which is not far from here."

Jack shook his head in disbelief. "Jean-Luc, a ship is one thing—even three ships, we only just survived. But a whole planet? Why do the odds always have to be so impossible?"

"I don't know, Jack," said Picard. "You're right though. It will be difficult."

Jack glanced up at Worf. "Thank you, Commander. The information you've given us may prove to be invaluable," he said. Worf nodded. "Let's go," Jack told the others, and began to walk back to the Batleh's transporter room.

* * *

As the group walked through the dimly lit ship's corridors, a series of faint noises began to sound above them. Plunk… plunk…plunk. Gradually the noise grew louder, and the group halted, all eyes fixed on the ceiling. The next sound was a loud clanging, and then it sounded as though the hull of the ship was being pelted. The lights dimmed around them suddenly.

They couldn't raise shields properly, because they were in cloak. Worf swore in Klingon.

"I completely agree," said Picard slowly. "Where is there a view port?" Worf pointed, and Picard ran in that general direction. Entering a small room, there was a view port, which he ran to and leaned against to try and see as much as possible. Suddenly a shimmering snake-like shape slithered past the window, seeming to change color as it passed. He leaned forward, and couldn't have anticipated how quickly the thing could turn and head back at him. When it did, its round gaping mouth was wide open. He jumped backward with a sharp yell as it bumped against the glass and then spun off in the other direction.

He turned back to Worf. "If they burn through the hull, we are all dead. They'll eat away the hull of your ship first, before moving on to the _Enterprise_."

"How long do we have?" Jack asked.

"At most 45 minutes, depending on how many there are," said Picard.

"If we turn on our deflector shields we can just bounce them off," said Shelby.

"Yes, but we'll be sitting ducks once we're uncloaked…and as soon as we go back into cloak these things will be back," said Yar.

"I don't think we have a choice," said Jack. "We've got to raise the shields for both ships."

"No, there's actually another way," said Picard thoughtfully.

"Enlighten me," said Worf gruffly.

"Do you have spacesuits with magnetic boots?"

Worf nodded, frowning.

"Good," said Picard. "We're going outside."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

* * *

"Captain, I have to object to your risking yourself out there," said Shelby. "I should go in your place, sir," she insisted for the second time.

Jack paused, and then laughed. "Fine. You may be without a permanent ship, but you're still very much a First Officer, Shelby," he said, handing her his space suit reluctantly. "Be careful out there," he said stepping back out of the way.

"Aye sir," she said stepping into the suit and pulling it up over her torso. All of the suits were much too large, but then they were made for Klingons. She glanced over at Picard who was also swimming in a suit much too big for him, as was Yar.

Worf having already put on his own suit, handed Picard a huge helmet, and then slapped a heavy disrupter cannon into his arms. "Where is your phaser? Do they not allow you a weapon on your ship? I thought you were a Captain," he said, sounding outraged.

"I was…until I resigned," Picard said, fastening the helmet into the circular ring at the neck of the suit, until it clicked shut. "Besides," he said pointing over at Jack. "It's his ship...not mine." There was a hiss as the pressure inside the suit changed.

"You resigned? You continue to say and do very odd things," said Worf. Lowering his voice, he added, "However, your recent victory against the Borg has not gone unnoticed among Klingons. There are many who are interested in learning your tactical methods."

"I'm flattered, Worf," said Picard. "But I won't be teaching any tactical courses in Klingon or any other language unless we get ourselves out of this."

Worf nodded and grabbed several long cables that were metallic but flexible like a rope, and handed one to each of them. He tugged at a metal loop on the belt of Picard's suit to demonstrate. "We will anchor ourselves to the hull and link ourselves together to navigate around it. These gravity boots are not strong enough to prevent us from floating away, so you must not lift your feet up too high," Worf warned them. "It is not the Klingon way to rescue those who _fail_ to follow directions..."

Data had no need for an environmental suit, but carefully stepped into the magnetic boots. Worf handed him a utility belt and a disruptor cannon.

"Data, are you sure you are going to be alright without a suit?" asked Picard.

Data nodded. "Yes, I do not breathe as you do, and I should be sufficiently protected from the vacuum of space by adjusting the pressure inside my body," he said calmly.

Picard nodded, impressed. "That's convenient. Just be careful, Data. I would wager even you are not indestructible." Data nodded silently in agreement.

"What exactly are those things out there?" said Shelby asking what everyone was wondering.

She glanced over at Yar questioningly, but the woman simply returned her gaze with unconvincing innocence.

Picard shrugged. "I don't have time to explain completely, except to say that they consume primarily duranium, which means they find the hulls of ships to be delicious."

"Data, your skull is partially made of duranium," Jack interrupted. "It's not safe."

Yar laughed. "Right...and it's so safe in here...or better yet over on the _Enterprise_."

Jack walked to Yar and put a hand on her arm. "Very funny. I'll be sure to mention to Starfleet Intel, just how little you've contributed to this mission," he said in a quiet but threatening voice.

She didn't reply, but kept her gaze locked on his, charging up her weapon.

Worf tossed Data a helmet. "Here, put this on to distract the creatures from devouring your head."

"Thank you," said Data, putting on the helmet. It looked kind of silly, as it was not attached to anything.

"So... the plan is, shoot them," continued Picard. "Oh, and don't let them touch you, or you will most surely die from electrocution. Now… shall we?" he said looking around at grim faces.

"Be careful out there, everyone," said Jack

* * *

"The _Batleh_ is signaling us, Captain. They are commanding us to come to an all stop, sir."

Riker frowned. "Sync velocity with the _Batleh_ and slow to an all stop," he ordered. "Hail them."

"Aye sir," said Diaz from tactical.

A moment later, a scowling Klingon appeared on the viewer. Riker wondered if this was the same female officer who had elbowed his friend Picard in the face recently. She certainly looked angry enough. "You called, Captain Riker?"

He put on his most studied poker face. "Yes. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting," he said.

If it was possible to appear angrier she managed. "I am Lieutenant Krala," she announced irritably.

"Lieutenant Krala, why have you ordered us to an all stop?"

"We have bugs on our hull. They are trying to devour our ship. The strange human Picard says he has seen these things before. It appears that our deflector shield strength was so depleted from being cloaked that they were able to slip through."

Unfortunately, it made sense. "Bugs?"

"Yes. We are sending a team out to take care of the problem before the _Enterprise_ is infected as well. Krala out," she said cutting the connection abruptly.

"Get me a visual on the _Batleh_ ," Riker ordered. The greenish ship snapped into view. "Magnify," he said, and the image showed a closer view of the bird of prey's hull. Sure enough the image showed the Klingon ship being swarmed by fiery snake-like creatures. Amidst them he saw five tiny figures emerge from a utility hatch at the top of the ship.

* * *

The problem was immediately clear. The strange colorful eel-like creatures were everywhere, attaching themselves to the hull of the bird of prey. Once amongst the creatures, their size was frightening. Each of the creatures was more than two meters long, but they moved so swiftly, it would be difficult to target them. Worf quickly bolted several anchors onto the green hull of his ship, and each of them quickly looped one end of their cable through the anchor, attaching the other end to their utility belt loop. At first, it seemed the creatures took no notice of the away team, until they realized they were being fired upon.

* * *

Walker Keel punched in a standard access code into the door panel and the door opened easily. Even though he knew no one was home, so to speak, he glanced around cautiously before stepping inside. Walking quickly toward the bedroom, he scanned the living space for anything of note. He knelt down and looked under the bed, finding a small black footlocker. He pulled it out finding it was very light. It's probably empty, he thought.

It had an oddly shaped old fashioned metal lock attached. He stuck his hand inside his pocket and pulled out a tiny metal object which he blew on and then stuck it carefully inside the lock. He moved the pick back and forth and twisted it around for a few moments until the lock opened with a satisfying pop. Inside was a bunch of carefully folded pieces of paper.

He pulled out the papers, setting them aside for a moment as he carefully picked up the other item and examined it carefully. It appeared to be a data chip of some sort but seemed quite alien. It certainly was not Starfleet issue. He plugged the oblong tube into his data pad. Immediately the screen filled with a three dimensional diagram of the USS Hood, complete with all schematics, including armaments, and shield frequencies.

 _She never did want the Hood to come along with us,_ he thought darkly to himself. But what had she used this for? Considering what had happened to the _Hood_ and so many of its crew, he wasn't certain he wanted the answer to that question. He pulled the data chip out, and placed it back in the box.

Setting the pad down, he picked up the packet of papers again. Examining it, he discovered that no one piece of paper was alike. He looked at the oldest, most tattered piece and studied the crude drawing on it. Something a young child had done, clearly. It was a very strange looking scribble done in pencil or charcoal. He leafed through the papers, each with a single picture on it, until gradually the picture on each piece of paper became more sophisticated, more polished. The final few pictures appeared to show a bright shining star, and the attempt at portraying its light with a simple drawing instrument was quite impressive.

Putting the papers back in the box and closing it, he placed the whole thing in the spot where he remembered it had been in and sat on the floor, trying to think. The image of seeing Picard blink away in a flash of light upon seeing Beverly again for the first time, and then using a similar glow to heal a dying dog down on Marca II would be forever burnt into his mind. And now it seemed, Yar's knowledge of the Q and the Borg, and her unconcerned attitude seemed to fit so easily into place with everything else that had happened so far. But still, he had no idea what she was doing here with them. Why had she placed herself in this position? She was in danger like the rest of them. Was she still a Q like Jean-Luc? Maybe she had been rejected like Jean-Luc, and was trying to get back in to the Continuum. He knew that he would need to use this information to find out more, but he had seen enough of Yar and the power of Q to know he needed to remain cautious.

* * *

Picard ducked, as one of the creatures careened over his head, leaving a crackling of electricity in its wake. Still crouching, he raised the large now weightless cannon up and fired a pulse several times at the creature as it retreated. His shot hit its mark, and the creature went spinning out of control, exploding as it hit the ship.

Still focused on the creature he had just killed, he didn't see the one coming behind him until he looked up and saw it descending upon him with a wide open mouth. It had no eyes that he could see, but clearly it knew he was there and was wondering if he tasted as good as the ship's hull. Suddenly the creature exploded as a shot was fired over his head, and Picard was hit by a series of disgusting floating globules of the creature's former self.

Picard turned to see where the shot had come from and saw Worf wave his gun at him. Picard waved back in thanks and then gathered up his cable, running down the length of the ship, continuing to fire at the creatures. Out of the side of his helmet, he saw Data, Yar and Shelby doing the same.

* * *

Beverly nodded with a smile at Felix Farmer, who was working with a patient, a former _Hood_ crew member who had suffered serious burns to his arms and legs during the battle with the Borg. The immediate importance of the research they had been doing had been seriously undermined by the events of the last few weeks, and both Beverly and Felix had been pressed into service again as regular doctors.

And of course, Beverly was now the Chief Medical Officer again. She hadn't had too much interaction with Felix for days, mainly because of the frantic pace of the circumstances unfolding around them, but she knew they would remain friends. Alyssa Ogawa was assisting Felix with the patient, and Beverly could not help but notice the way Alyssa glanced at him shyly every now and then. She thought they made a nice couple, actually.

Moving away from them she walked over to one of the more secluded recovery areas and began to check readouts on the wall. There had been no change in brain wave activity. Still she couldn't help but note that her patient wasn't missing anything good. The entry into the Delta Quadrant had been a rocky one so far, and did not promise to get any better that she could see. She touched Geordi's forehead lightly and then grasped his hand squeezing it, suddenly hoping not as a doctor, but as a friend, that he could feel her touch. Blinking her necessary professional detachment back into place, she turned at the sound of soft footfalls.

"No change?" asked Deanna Troi approaching her with a look of concern.

Beverly shook her head no. "Nothing notable," she sighed, leaning against Geordi's bed. She saw that Deanna was holding a mug of something steaming in each hand. Troi held one out to Beverly, which she took gratefully.

She sniffed the cup and looked up at Deanna. "Cocoa?" she said, sounding somewhat disappointed. Deanna could tell that she would have preferred coffee. Perhaps in time her new friend would come to appreciate chocolate almost as much as Deanna.

"Has the away team returned from the Klingon ship yet?" Beverly asked, sipping from her cup and trying to sound unconcerned.

Deanna smiled kindly at her. "I don't think so," she said gently. "But then, Will is up on the bridge and I'm a bit out of the loop. I have spent the last several hours in counseling sessions with the survivors, and I would really love to talk with someone about something other than death and sadness. Want to talk for few minutes?"

Beverly smiled, and waved toward her office. "Sure," she said. "But I can't promise to be uplifting," as they stepped inside. Sitting down across from each other, Beverly noticed that Troi looked exhausted. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to constantly sense the emotions of people on the ship, especially in times like these, when the circumstances were so stressful. She leaned forward. "You know, Deanna, you mentioned the 'survivors' of the Hood as though you aren't one of them. How are you doing?"

Deanna smiled tiredly. "Thank you so much for asking, Beverly. I am doing my best to maintain my composure for my patients, but you are right; I am one of the survivors as well—as are you. It's very difficult for me, but you of course know what it's like to have to work under stress. You have to put your emotions aside to some degree."

"Yes, but with your sensibilities…"

Deanna smiled. "Being an empath you mean?"

"Yes, I just don't see how you do it. Are you ever able to turn it off completely? Maybe that's not the best way to say it…."

"No, that's actually a very apt description," admitted Deanna. "It's hard to explain, but it certainly has involved a great deal of training to control of my abilities. And as with your own profession, it requires a degree of emotional detachment."

Beverly nodded, and leaned back in her chair. She winced slightly as sore muscles resisted. A warm sensation passed through her when she remembered how she had gotten those sore muscles. Erotic images, sounds and sensations floated back to her. She looked down at her desk, hoping that her emotions were not that obvious. When she looked up at Troi, it was apparent that they were.

Troi smiled, not wanting Beverly to think she had been reading her mind, but she didn't have too. "And so, if I may ask, how are you doing?"

Beverly carefully regained her poise. "I'm fine," she said.

Deanna nodded, and continued to gaze at her with that small knowing smile she presented when she was just waiting for someone to burst forth with whatever they were trying to keep from her.

"What?" said Beverly, blushing at Troi's persistent stare. She put her cup down and folded her hands in front of her.

"I can see that you _are_ fine. I was just wondering how things have been for you. Now that Jean-Luc Picard is becoming more…adjusted to life back among humans."

Beverly paused, not sure how much she wanted to reveal. "Well…things are moving very fast between us all of a sudden. I don't know what to think. In fact, suddenly I don't seem to be thinking clearly at all when it comes to him."

"That seems very natural considering what the two of you have been through."

"Natural that things are moving fast, or that I'm not thinking very clearly?"

"Both," said Deanna. "Are you happy with how things are unfolding?"

Beverly twisted her hands together, looking down at her lap. "Happy…um, I feel exhilarated, young, foolish and nervous about what's to come."

"Are you afraid to allow yourself to be happy so soon?" asked Deanna softly.

Beverly's eyes glistened with emotion. "Yes…Deanna I'm still married to Jack. I do feel guilt. And none of us knows if we will even survive what we are currently going through right now. So, you could say I am just taking it one minute at a time."

"With the hope that there will be time for happiness one day soon?"

"Yes," said Beverly, wiping a tear from her eyelid before it rolled down her cheek. "Soon."


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

* * *

Picard sprinted toward Data firing at the iridescent creatures swarming the Enterprise first officer. Picard knew that if the android had not been so accurate with his aim, he would have most surely been overcome by them. Picard was beginning to see that Jack's concern for his first officer had been well-placed.

"Move to your left, Data!" He screamed, still sprinting. Data moved swiftly out of the way and Picard skidded toward him firing. The injured creature spiraled out into space. Data nodded a thanks to Picard, before firing his own phaser over Picard's head killing another of the attacking creatures. The strength of the blast knocked Picard down and his feet went out from under him. He floated in space momentarily grabbing at his tether, trying to bring his feet back down in order for the gravity boots to lock on once again.

He spun to his left, trying to regain some control, and caught sight of Yar. She had stopped firing momentarily and she was staring directly at him. Suddenly a blast over his shoulder made him realize what she had been looking at. The snake-like creature burst into particles above him. Breathing erratically inside his helmet, he could see that she was grinning at him. She tapped her gun on the side of her helmet in a sarcastic salute before returning to her task.

By the time he had righted himself, he saw that Data was again under attack. There were too many of them, and one slithered in close to Data, and clamped it's circular mouth onto his back. A current of blue and white electricity shot through the android and he stiffened and fell to the deck. "Data!" Picard shouted, running toward him. Worf ran toward them firing his disruptor and between the two of them, they were able to clear the area.

* * *

Picard dropped to one knee to examine Data. The meter in his suit which measured the electricity outside, slowly turned green and the crackling in his helmet stopped, indicating that it was safe to touch Data. He rolled Data onto his stomach and found a ring of burnt material where the creature had tried to take a bite out of the android. It didn't appear that the beast had done any damage below Data's "skin", but there was no way to tell.

Worf covered them, shooting off into the distance, as Picard rolled Data back over and attempted to shake him conscious, not knowing whether such a thing was a good idea or not with an android. Abruptly, Data opened his eyes. His mouth formed an "o" shape but no sound came out. He blinked a few more times. Suddenly, he sat up stiffly, his back straight, as Picard stood up moving out of the way.

Picard grinned and patted him on the back. "Alright?"

Data nodded appearing to orient himself, and grabbed his phaser.

"Come on," shouted Picard. "We've almost cleared the hull of these things. Let's go and help Yar and Shelby finish them off."

* * *

"Captain, we have a Borg ship incoming," Lt. Diaz announced suddenly from tactical. "It traveled through the same trans warp conduit we did, sir," she added.

"Shields up," Riker snapped.

"Shields are at minimal strength because of the cloaking device, Captain," said the young woman.

"I know, Lieutenant," he said, forcing himself up from the command center. His legs were killing him, but right now, discomfort was the least of their problems. "On main viewer."

It was the now familiar cube alright, but was smaller than the other ships they had previously encountered. Maybe a scout ship, he thought. "Heading?"

"It will pass right over us, Captain," she said.

Riker felt his skin go clammy. He scratched at the stubble on the side of his face. He needed time to think, but there was no time. "Go to silent running," he suddenly shouted. "Hail the _Batleh_ and tell them to do the same," he said. "I want auxiliary power only. Just keep the systems in the sickbays operational."

"Even the lights sir?"

"Yes, shut the goddamn lights off too," he barked. Within seconds the bridge was dark, save for the lights on the control panels.

"The Borg ship will intercept in ten seconds sir," said the officer at the helm.

"On main viewer," Riker said, his voice almost a whisper. The next ten seconds were like torture as they watched the Borg ship approach and begin to pass overhead.

"Sir," Diaz hissed, her hands hovering over the phaser controls. "The Borg ship has come to a full stop directly over us. They are powering up their weapons systems, sir," she said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.

"Easy, Lieutenant," Riker said, holding his hand up. "Stand by," he said quietly, trying to take his own advice.

Suddenly, the cube blinked away and was gone. Riker realized he had been holding his breath, and forced himself to relax his diaphragm.

"Borg ship has departed, sir," Diaz confirmed, sounding relieved. Suddenly she gasped.

Riker turned to face her. "What is it?"

"Sir…the readings show the conduit we passed through to enter the Delta Quadrant…it's disappeared, sir. Just gone…." She trailed off. "There are no other detectable conduits, Captain."

So, it was official-they were trapped now without a way to get home. Riker ran his hands through his hair. "What next?" he said to himself.

"I don't know, sir," said Diaz sounding dazed.

"It was a rhetorical question, Lieutenant," he said quietly, unable to keep the gloom from his voice.

"Aye sir."

* * *

The lights on both ships had winked out a few moments beforehand, and the only light left where they now stood was from the colorful, glowing creatures still trying to attach to the Batleh's hull. Now Picard and the others looked upward as the Borg ship passed overhead silently. He held his breath until it warped away, and then turned his attention to the remaining few creatures.

"Get down!" Commander Shelby yelled to Yar. Yar ducked just as one of the creatures came flying over her head. Shelby shot it, as she had so many others, but it only grazed the creature and it continued wildly heading in her direction. In an attempt to avoid it, she jumped up and out of the way and her feet lifted off of the hull sending her spinning up and away. She grabbed at her cable frantically, but as she spun, her legs connected with the dying creature, sending a current of electricity through her. Shelby's screams echoed through the helmets of the other away team members, spurring them into action. Seeing Picard run toward the two women, Worf and Data finished off the last few creatures.

* * *

Yar, however became very still and watched Shelby. The woman was still alive, but barely coherent. "Help me," she rasped pleadingly.

Yar's eyes narrowed inside of her space suit. She turned away and looked for Picard, who was now running toward them. Yar locked eyes with him, and then turned back to Shelby, who was now tethered only by the loop on her belt. She suddenly slammed into the hull, and was dragged along until her body caught on an irregularity in the hull.

"Yar, grab her!" screamed Picard. Yar smiled at him from inside her helmet and then turned back to watch Shelby. She could now see that there was tiny line of vapor trailing from the torso of Shelby's suit. Her suit had ripped when she connected with the hull, and air was now escaping dangerously from her suit. It was only a matter of time now until the suit either decompressed or Shelby suffocated. Yar wasn't sure which was a more horrible way to expire.

And Shelby _would_ expire—that is, unless Picard could somehow save her. There was no reason to make it too easy for him. He would need to believe that all would be lost for poor Shelby, unless he used the power.

Yar activated a tiny cutting tool on her non-Starfleet issue weapon, and almost casually knelt down, swiping the weapon over the cable. She stepped back as it snapped, and Shelby spun up higher and away from the ship, now connected to nothing. Yar turned her attention back to Picard, who still had not used the power of Q. He would need to do it soon, if she was to have an opportunity to co-opt it for herself.

Picard leapt into the air, the absence of gravity pushing him away from the ship at an alarming rate. But he only had so much leeway, since his own cable was still attached to the hull. Straining his fingers out to reach Shelby, he grabbed the ring around her helmet, and held tight. Her body's momentum continued to pull her away. His left shoulder separated from the joint with an audible pop as it dislocated, having been pushed beyond its natural limits. "Aaargh," he grunted. He felt the tug on his cable and looked down. Data was pulling them downward quickly.

He stared into Shelby's helmet. "Stay with me, Elizabeth," he urged her. Her face was turning blue, and her mouth moved silently as she looked at him. She knew she was dying, but he could still see the fight in her. She was strong. Landing on the deck as gently as possible, he tried to lift her to her feet with his good arm. "Come on keep going...I'm here with you." He was still talking to her to keep her alive when it happened. The once controlled environment inside her suit decompressed and the inside of her helmet exploded violently in red. Gasping in alarm, he let go of her body and it twisted away swiftly into the blackness of space. He started to stumble after her, but felt a strong arm around his chest.

"She is gone, we must go," Worf said, dragging him backwards.

* * *

Once back inside, Jack and Krala were waiting for them. Picard pulled off his helmet with his right arm and threw it furiously to the floor. He rushed Yar. "You!" He grabbed for her throat, but she moved aside and slammed her elbow into his left shoulder, the one that hung limply at his side. He screamed and fell to the deck, clutching his arm. Trying to leap up again, he felt Data's steely grip on his good shoulder, silently keeping him in one place.

"What the hell happened out there? Where's Shelby?" Jack demanded, thrusting himself between Picard and Yar.

"Shelby's dead," said Picard, chest heaving. Data released him cautiously and he stood up slowly. Tears of frustration and exhaustion came to his eyes. His shoulder was in agony, but the adrenaline fueled his anger. "You killed her," he accused Yar.

Jack looked at Picard. "Jean-Luc, that's a very serious allegation you're making. Who witnessed this?" he asked, looking around.

Worf's eyes narrowed, staring at Yar. "I saw nothing until the last few moments of the human's life. I will tell the truth if questioned, of course." Yar stared back at him placidly.

Jack looked at Worf. "Given the accusations made here, we'll need an inquiry into this matter. Would you be willing to beam over?"

Worf nodded. Krala stepped up beside him protectively. "I will accompany him," she growled. Jack thought it best not to protest.

"Good," he said. "Now I don't want any more violence," he said glancing at Picard. "We may be in enemy territory, but we'll handle our business in a civilized manner. We have rules, and I ask everyone to remember them. Don't, and I promise you will end up in the brig. Now, does anyone else have anything to _productive_ to add before we beam back over?"

Data looked directly at Jack. "Commander Worf and I were eliminating the creatures feeding on the hull. We were aware that Commander Shelby was in distress, but we were unable to assist until the remaining creatures were neutralized. Shelby's cable tether must have been compromised at some point. When we arrived to assist, Captain Picard had control of Commander Shelby and I pulled them down to the hull. It was at that point that Shelby…died."

Jack ran a trembling hand over his chin. Shelby had gone in his place. "How?"

"Decompression," said Picard, sitting down on the floor cross-legged. "There's nothing left of her body to recover." He looked up at Yar with something close to hatred. "You cut her tether, didn't you? Why did you kill her?"

"You were so close to saving her, Picard…." said Yar, as though she were trying to reason with someone who was insane. "If only you had used your power, you could have saved Shelby…but you _didn't_. Don't misdirect your guilt at me."

"Where is the tether now?" Jack asked.

"Gone," said Worf. "It floated away…along with her body," he added darkly.

Jack nodded solemnly and looked at Picard with a question in his eyes. "Jean-Luc. Could you have…could you have saved her?"

Picard got to his feet, pushing himself up with his right arm. He felt dizzy with anger, guilt and pain. He had tried to save her. He really had. And now Jack was taking Yar's side. "Yes, but I didn't…satisfied Jack?"

"No, I'm not satisfied," said Jack quietly. "Jean-Luc, if you have the power, why didn't you save her?"

Picard walked toward Jack and grabbed him by the collar. Jack grabbed his wrist in response as they stared each other down. "You should have been in her place Jack," Picard said with quiet anger. "How does that make you feel? You're trying to blame me, and maybe I deserve the blame. But she went in _your_ place," he said letting go of his friend and turning away.

"Just like all those years ago, right Jean-Luc?" Jack called after him, as Picard stalked ahead of him toward the transporter room. "Just like you went in my place, right? I should have died, but they took you instead. That's why you hate me, right?" He grabbed Picard's sleeve and spun him around.

Picard pulled free roughly. "I don't hate you, Jack," he said, stepping up onto the transporter pad with the others.

* * *

Beverly Crusher ran to transporter room three with her med kit. It had just been announced that the away team was beaming aboard, but Riker informed sickbay that there had been a casualty. If he knew who it was, he wouldn't say, but he was on his way as well. In automatic mode, she had grabbed an extra hypo and rushed out the door. Someone had been hurt. Was it Jean-Luc? Was it Jack? Her nerves were just about shot.

Walker saw her just as she ran into the transporter room, and ducked in behind her as the figures began to form on the transporter pad inside the beam. Riker stood, leaning on the transporter console as O'Brien worked the controls. At first the occupants of the room felt hope, because there were actually more bodies energizing than the five who had left.

Riker ran a hand over his face. He straightened unsteadily on fatigued legs. "Shelby?" he said questioningly and stepped forward.

Jack Crusher stepped down, hands out. "I'm sorry, Will. She was killed fighting those creatures," he said. Data stepped down behind him.

Riker looked away. "Where is her body?" he said in a flat tone. "I have to notify her brother. Where is her body?" he asked again, facing Jack.

"It…it's gone," said Jack.

"What do you mean it's gone? What happened?" Riker snapped. "I sent my best officer over there with you, Captain. And she doesn't come back?" He pointed at Jack's chest. "I want some goddamn answers, _now_."

Walker stepped up beside Riker and put a calming hand on his shoulder. "It's alright Will, we're going to get those answers soon enough."

Beverly was watching Picard, who still stood up on the transporter pad with Yar, Worf and a menacing looking Klingon female. Worf was trying to physically put himself in between Picard and Yar who were arguing quietly. Beverly stepped forward haltingly.

"Get your hand away from me, before I break it off," Yar snapped, trying to step around Picard.

"Not until you admit what you did to her. Admit that you killed her," he demanded

Riker stepped forward. "What?!"

Picard leapt at Yar again, and this time, both Klingons grabbed him roughly, restraining him. Beverly ran forward. "Let him go!" she shouted.

The Klingon female looked somewhat taken aback, but continued to hold him tightly. Yar stepped down from the transporter pad smoothly, getting out of the way. Jack nodded at Data who stepped protectively in front of Yar.

Slowly the Klingons loosened their grip on Picard and he stepped away from them, quickly moving to exit the transporter room.

"Where are you going, Jean-Luc?" shouted Jack. "You are to report to sick bay, you need medical attention."

"I'm going to my quarters," he said in a low voice. "Stay away from me," he warned everyone. "I'm fine," he added, glancing briefly at Beverly, hoping she would believe him.

"Wait!" She moved toward him with a strained look, but he moved away.

Worf laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, standing in his way. "You require medical attention, human. Do you not want it? Your arm hangs limply and is no use to you."

Picard looked up at him. "I'm tired of hospitals," he grumbled.

Worf looked down at him. "I can… assist you with that," he suggested.

Without properly thinking it through Jean-Luc agreed, "Alright," he said cautiously.

Without another word, Worf grabbed his left wrist, lifting it up and putting it on his own shoulder, backing Picard up against the wall. Placing his other palm on the top of Picard's shoulder he shoved.

"Aaaa!" Picard shouted and with a click his shoulder was pushed back in. "Thanks," he said glancing up at Worf. "Feels better already." Without a glance at the others, he left the room.

* * *

She knew he wouldn't answer, so she didn't bother asking to come in. Instead, she punched in a security code and walked in. Marca came over to her and licked her hand in greeting. Beverly knelt down and petted the dog. "Hi sweet heart," she said. "Where is he?" she asked, getting up and walking through the apartment. It was dark, save for a lamp light coming from his bedroom.

He was sitting up in bed, reading with one hand. He was wearing a pair of glasses, which she found mildly amusing. Of course he didn't need them, but then he hadn't needed to smoke cigars either.

He closed the book when he saw her and shifted slightly, looking down at his lap.

"How's the shoulder, Jean-Luc?" she asked.

"Fine," he said, putting the book down. He was naked, and pulled the covers up to his chest. She knew he wasn't self- conscious, but he was trying to be considerate for her benefit. She smiled, feeling her desire for him return quickly, and walked closer to the bed. He adjusted his glasses carefully and looked up at her.

"I like the glasses," she said. "It's a good look for you. If you ever decide to teach classes at the Academy, you could really make that work," she said smiling down at him affectionately.

He smiled slightly in response, but she could tell he was too distracted to play along with her. She pulled out a hypo from her pocket, and then took off her lab coat, tossing it over a chair.

"I know you said you're fine, but just humor me, and let me give you this. This is for pain relief…okay?"

He smiled tightly and nodded. "Okay." She put it against his neck and it hissed as the analgesic contents were emptied. He visibly relaxed and she could tell it had done its job. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," she said leaning down and kissing him on the cheek. He smiled and closed his eyes. She placed her hand on the bed and leaned in kissing him again on the forehead and then on his jawline. She ran her finger over his lips, and then kissed him on the mouth as he turned his head to meet her lips.

After a moment he opened his eyes, and there were tears in them. "I don't want anyone to be kind to me right now," he said. "Not even you," he said, closing his eyes again. Tears began to stream silently down his face. Looking at him, she wondered how long it had been since he had cried. She certainly could not remember having ever witnessed him doing so.

She straightened and stepped back. "I'm so sorry. Do you want to talk about it, Jean-Luc? I won't say anything…I'll just listen."

He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"What do you want? Do you want me to leave?" Her heart began to beat quickly. She pressed her lips together, waiting for the rejection.

He shook his head again. "I want you to stay," he whispered, eyes still closed. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too," she said, and began to get undressed. She reached over to turn the light off, but he shook his head, finally giving her a small smile. She shrugged and smiled back at him, trying not to feel self- conscious as he watched her finish with a clear longing in his gaze. He lifted up the covers inviting her in, and she climbed in. She leaned forward and kissed him, and he hugged her tightly to him. Reaching out to the side, he switched off the lamp with a sigh.

* * *

 **Hi everyone, thanks again for reading and reviewing. Take care**


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

* * *

"Yar!" Riker stomped through the corridors on deck eight. Finally the object of his anger-at least one of the objects of his anger, was dead ahead. But she didn't seem to care, and didn't bother to slow her quick pace. "Yar!" Will shouted again.

Finally she halted and then turned around slowly to look in his direction. When she saw who it was, she began to walk toward him. "What do you want?" she asked. There was no defensiveness or caution in her tone, but she seemed genuinely curious. She stopped just an arms length away, as though daring him to make a move.

He wiped a hand over his eyes. He'd just come from Ten Forward, having drunk too much of the real thing. What he'd been through...and the kind of things he was considering for the first time ever called for something more powerful than synthehol. Something real. The problem was, and he knew this; he and alcohol did not mix well. He shook his finger at Yar. "I _want_ you to tell me what happened to Shelby. And I don't want any bullshit answers!" he added, as she glanced away, clearly uninterested in the subject matter. He shifted his feet unsteadily. "I'm warning you."

Yar crossed her arms and took a step closer. "And I don't respond well to threats. In fact, most people who have chosen to threaten me, haven't survived long enough to follow through."

"Is that what Shelby did? Did she threaten you?"

"But I'll give you some slack, because I can see you've been drinking," she said mildly, ignoring his question.

"I said, did she threaten you? Because from what I could see, she actually seemed to like you." He stepped forward. "So let me get this clear...the _one_ person on board who could tolerate you, you decided to kill?"

Yar shook her head, looking disappointed somehow in Riker. And it only annoyed him further. Yar looked down at the deck for a few moments. "Did you ever want something so badly, Riker that you would do anything...anything to make it go your way?" Her eyes seemed to glisten when she looked up at him.

He swallowed, and was suddenly at a loss for words. She shook her head with a thin smile. "No, I didn't think you would understand..." Her eyes hardened again. "And so I have nothing else to say to you, Riker. You've already made up your mind, and no matter what I say to you, you'll think I killed her. Besides, I am not in the habit of caring what other people think."

"I see it now," he called after her. "You don't care about anything or anyone, do you?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "You know there's only one person on this ship who comes close to understanding me, Riker. He doesn't want to, but he does. So if you want to know what happened to Shelby, ask Picard."

* * *

"Data, it can't be…are we really stuck here?" Jack Crusher demanded, throwing himself back in his desk chair.

"Technically, no, sir. We are certainly free to move out of Borg space. The problem is that unless we are able to find another trans warp conduit, we will remain in the Delta Quadrant for the rest of the crew's natural lives. In theory, at maximum warp we would be able to reach the Alpha Quadrant in 40 years. However, such speeds are not realistically sustainable, without advances in warp drive capability along the way."

Jack threw down his data pad with a clatter and slapped his palms over his face. "Like I said…we are stuck." He ran his hands angrily through his hair, appearing for a moment as though he wanted to tear it out; then stood up suddenly and threw his hands up in the air. "Shit!" he yelled into the air in front of him, stomping his foot.

Data tilted his head with interest. Captain Crusher was naturally given to emotional outbursts, but recently, even more so. He could not help but notice that the Captain's emotional moods seemed to tend toward the more extreme since Picard had come aboard. Following the sudden death of Elizabeth Shelby, a pall had fallen over an already emotionally taxed crew. And the tensions between the Captain and Picard had re-emerged after having relaxed to some extent following Picard's efforts during the battle against the Borg.

"Sir, we will continue our efforts to locate additional conduits. There are still options."

Jack walked over to the window and now stood looking out at the stars. "You know what Data? You know what would make all of this just a little bit better? Something that would give me just a little hope…."

Data shook his head almost imperceptibly. "What, sir?"

"We need him…we need Geordi. If only he'd wake _up_ …."

"Based on Doctor Crusher's most recent medical assessment sir, the odds against that happening are 410 to—"he broke off suddenly, realizing that the Captain might not want to know the exact odds. "It would be, as they say, nothing short of a miracle, sir," he said.

Jack pointed a finger at Data, still fixing his gaze out of the view port. "That's what we need, Data; a goddamned, certified miracle. Because that is what it is going to take to get us all home alive."

* * *

"We're still trying to locate the kids," said Wesley, leaning against Geordi's hospital bed. "But I don't think anyone really knows what we will do once we find them. Assuming they're even still alive," he trailed off. _Look Wes_ … _don't worry so much about what you can't control,_ he imagined Geordi saying.

"Yeah...but even worse is we seem to be stuck here...unless we can find another conduit to travel through to get back home...I've been thinking, though," Wesley continued to Geordi's placid expression. "You know all of that work we were doing before you got hurt? I want to try to use it to try to find us a way out of here. I know it's a long shot, but..."

Wesley looked up, feeling a hand fall on his shoulder. "Oh, hi Dr. LaForge," he said, moving his chair back to make room.

"You can call me Mark, Wesley," said the doctor. "I'm on leave right now, and we're practically family, after all," he said.

"Okay...yeah, you're right, we are like family," Wes agreed. "I always thought of Geordi as sort of a big brother. I mean even now, when he's so sick, I can sit here and talk with him about anything really. I just wish he was awake...I know he could help us out."

Mark LaForge smiled. "I'm sure it means so much to him that you come and sit with him, Wes. I know it means the world to me," he added. He smiled sadly, looking down at Geordi. He knew the chances were so slim now that he would wake up. Just yesterday, his brain wave activity had dropped to a low point. Cortical stimulation was still a possibility, but somehow that felt like a last resort. He looked down at Geordi and wondered how much of anything registered. Soon, he might have to make a decision, and he didn't know if he was prepared to do so.

* * *

 _Her blue-tinged lips silently accused, "You killed me."_

 _"_ _No," he screamed out, reaching as far as he could, but Shelby's body just drifted further and further away. "No, no no!"_

He sat up abruptly, still shouting. "Jean-Luc, shh… it's alright." Beverly moved behind him and he felt her hands on his chest, holding tight over his heart, which felt like it was beating much too fast. Soft but strong arms gathered him into an embrace. She buried her face in the back of his neck. "It's okay." Slowly his muscles began to relax. He was safe in his own quarters and Beverly was still with him. He took a deep shuddering breath and then exhaled, dropping his head forward.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked, putting her chin on his shoulder.

"Unh," he grunted, shaking his head back and forth once slowly.

She laughed softly. "Oh, no of course you don't," she said, kissing his shoulder blade.

"Am I that predictable?" he asked in a low voice.

She smiled into his back. "Only to me."

"That's why you are the only one I need."

She laughed. "So…if some floozy formerly of the Q Continuum decides to tempt you again, I have nothing to worry about?"

He dropped his head again. "I must not have been in my right mind," he muttered darkly.

She squeezed him tightly. "Jean-Luc, I was making a joke. I'm not trying to upset you. Please put that woman out of your mind."

"Might you be able to help me with that?" he asked, turning his head back to look at her, finally offering her a sly smile. She smiled back and snorted lightly, gathering his meaning.

"Sure." She began to glide her hands over his chest, kissing his neck. Her breasts rubbed against his back, and he sighed contentedly. He took one of her hands, and guided it lower over his abdomen and into his lap.

"Oh, _now_ I see where this is going," she said seductively. She nibbled the back of his neck as his breathing grew more rapid, and he leaned back into her body.

Suddenly there was a commotion out in his living room and they both froze. Marca was barking at someone or something. "Picard! Picard! I need to talk with you, _now_!" Jean-Luc bit his lip in frustration. It was Riker, and his timing really could not have been worse.

" _Picard!_ Where are you? Get this damn dog away from me…" There was aloud crash.

Letting Jean-Luc go, Beverly jumped up, causing him to fall awkwardly back onto the bed. "Sorry!" She whispered apologetically. She looked around and found a robe and wrapped it around herself. "I'll go out there," she said, glancing down at him. "You're still…well you need a minute."

"Yes," he confirmed, still lying on his back and covering his eyes with his forearm. Beverly smiled sympathetically and patted him on the leg before leaving the room.

* * *

Q watched Wesley and Dr. LaForge from above with curiosity. These humans were inconsolable about one person falling into a coma. And Jack Crusher had even mentioned the need for a miracle. Did they actually require something for inspiration in addition to the knowledge that their race might soon be eradicated by the Borg? He found that hard to believe.

Still, he had learned enough from his relationship with Picard that he recognized the importance human beings placed on the concept of hope. He waited for them to leave, and eventually they did. _It couldn't hurt,_ he thought with a mental shrug, and descended without visible shape to the engineer's bedside. Reaching an invisible tendril out to touch LaForge s forehead, he felt the familiar chill as his use of the power transferred into another being.

And then he felt something like a pause, and found that strangely he had to stay longer than expected. Something was different. The task now required concentration, whereas before the power had been just like a reflex. As he departed sick bay, he recognized that something very, very bad indeed had happened to the Q. And her name was Natasha Yar.

* * *

Beverly walked out into the living room, to find that Riker was propped up sitting on the floor, against the wall, his legs splayed out in front of him. She hurried toward him. "Will? Are you okay?"

Marca lay on the floor next to him. Her head rested on her paws and she looked the other way boredly. She seemed to have decided that he was no threat to her or Picard, who he had finally stopped yelling for.

Riker groaned and licked his lips. "I like dogs…good dog, thank you for not biting me," he muttered. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "I kind of deserve it, I know..." Then abruptly he seemed to grow sad, and she saw tears in his eyes. "Picard... I lost my ship…can't believe it's gone. And now Shelby…."

Beverly knelt down beside Marca, petting the dog's thick fur, while she regarded Riker. She could distinctly smell alcohol on him. "Are you drunk?"

"Not enough," he said slowly. He frowned and then blinked, surprised to see Beverly. "You're not him...Beverly."

"No I'm...not Jean-Luc, Will, thanks for noticing." She sat back on her heels, watching him shrug. "Oh, you are so drunk."

"Where is he?"

She pointed toward his bedroom. "He'll be out in a minute. He wasn't exactly expecting you." She stared into his blurry eyes. "You need some water," she remarked. "I'll get you some," she said starting to get to her feet. Riker grabbed her hand.

"Wait," Riker said. "Help me up, and I'll tell you all of Picard's secrets."

She laughed. "Here," she said reaching out her arms. "Can you get up?"

"My legs don't work so well," he grunted. "I don't know if you noticed, but they were broken recently," he said, taking her offered assistance.

"Actually given that I was the one who performed your surgery, yes, I had noticed, Will. Wow, you're heavy," she grunted pulling him up by his elbow, but was able to get enough leverage to help him to his feet.

"Picard carried me like a baby when we were on the _Hood_ ," he said.

"Yes, well, you weigh quite a bit more than a baby, and as you noted, I'm not Picard," said Beverly with a patient smile. "Are you alright to stand?" Riker nodded.

Picard emerged from the bedroom having changed into pajamas and a t-shirt. He was carrying Beverly's carefully folded uniform and lab coat under his arm. He handed the bundle to her wordlessly and then confronted Riker. "What do you want? You frightened Marca," he said, glancing down at the dog who was now snoring on the floor. "Well, she seems to have gotten over it," he admitted. "But still, you can't just come barging in here..."

Riker poked him in the chest. "I…wanna know what happened out there, Picard," he said slowly. "And I want…to hear it from you. Did she kill Shelby?"

Beverly stepped away, watching them both. Picard gripped his injured left arm, and looked down at his feet, before turning his gaze up to meet Riker's eyes. "Yes," he said quietly. "But I have no proof. Neither Data nor Worf witnessed it. And the cable Yar severed floated away and was incinerated by the _Batleh's_ shields. The only other person who knows the truth is dead. So, I suppose it is her word against mine."

"Who is going to believe her over you?" said Beverly sounding baffled.

"I don't know, Beverly, Jack seemed to…" he said, glancing at her.

"I doubt that..."

Riker shook his head and put his hand on the back of a chair to steady himself. "It doesn't matter. Jack's little investigative inquiry is already over, at least for now."

"I know one thing," said Beverly. "We need to stick together. Hasn't there already been enough infighting?"

"If Yar killed Shelby, then she's not one of us. And I'm going to make sure that she pays," Riker said, swaying on his feet.

"You're in no condition to do anything but go home and sleep, Will," Beverly said firmly.

He shrugged and leaned on the chair again. "I just wanted to know the truth. Shelby and I didn't always see eye to eye. Actually we almost never did," he admitted. "But we always respected each other, and she was the best officer I've ever served with…" he ran a hand through his hair. "That is…until I met you, Picard."

Beverly moved to Picard's side and took his hand, gazing at him with affection. He smiled faintly. "I'm not an officer anymore."

"The hell you aren't," scoffed Will. He paused and looked at them both as though seeing them together for the first time. "Oh...I think I really interrupted something just now, didn't I? I'm sorry," he said sounding almost sober suddenly. He scratched his head absently. "It'll never happen again," he promised with a yawn.

Beverly and Jean-Luc merely looked at each other and then all three of them perked up at the chirp of a communicator. Suddenly embarrassed, Beverly looked down at the bundle of clothes she was holding and tapped her communicator. "Crusher here," she said as professionally as possible, while speaking into a pile of clothes.

 _"Beverly, it's Mark…you've got to come right away. Geordi's awake."_

* * *

The bar had cleared out. Will Riker had been the last to leave, and before he had gone had drunk far too much Aldeberan whiskey. He had left grumbling about how he intended on "getting some answers". For all of the synthehol available on this ship, it was remarkable lately how the crew seemed to be turning back to the real thing, as though synthehol did not quite provide the level of escapism needed to give them the illusion of protection from the trouble they were currently immersed in.

Guinan was rearranging some bottles underneath the bar and wondering if Riker had found some of his answers, when a cold chill shot through her. Slowly she lifted her head to face him. She carefully adjusted her immense hat before speaking.

"We don't allow your kind in here," she said in a low voice.

"I'm shocked. Because if they allow _your_ kind in, their standards must be virtually non-existent." said Q, sitting down at the bar and staring at her fixedly.

"I work here," she said.

"Even more shocking."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Q? Haven't you tortured Picard enough for one lifetime?"

"Actually it is now _me_ who is being tortured," he said, placing his hand over his non-existent heart. "And I now need Picard's help."

Guinan crossed her arms and leaned on the bar, still looking at him. "You know, for the first time ever…I believe you. But Picard is human again…mostly. He's with us now. And we need him more than you do."

Q laughed disparagingly. "You're not even human."

"No, but I live among them, and I happen to want their species to survive," she said evenly.

"Yes, and so do I," he insisted.

It was Guinan's turn to laugh, but all she allowed was a knowing smile. "Q, if you actually have concern for the fate of humankind, that can only mean one thing: you are in deep trouble. The only thing that gives you reason to care is a threat to your own personal welfare."

Q rolled his eyes, which was one of his most favorite things to do when he was in a humanoid body. "If you knew me as well as you claim to, you would know that a have no need to be concerned for my personal safety."

Guinan moved around to the front of the bar and sat down a few stools away from him. "I think you should be speaking in the past tense. Things have changed recently for the Q, haven't they?"

"Yes," he admitted.

She turned her stool all the way around to gaze at him. "You should have thought twice before taking a damaged young child and making her into an experiment, Q. That girl endured so much suffering under your watchful gaze…and then one day when you determined that she had had enough, you took her under your wing. You underestimated that the ways that humans hurt each other can leave lasting scars. Some that never really fade away."

Q's eyes narrowed but he remained silent.

"Or maybe you knew that she would hold a grudge, and so when she turned the Borg against humans, you didn't mind so much… until she began to turn against the Q as well." She smiled perceptively. "Sometimes when the teacher becomes the student, it's not such a good thing. Isn't that what happened here, Q?"

Q stood up angrily. "Insolent mortal," he said, his eyes darkening. "Do you exist just to spite me?"

Guinan shrugged and wiped a smudge on the bar with her sleeve. "You came to see me, remember?"

He paced away and then spun back to face her, still angry. "What if I did come to you for your sage advice? What would you say?"

"Hypothetically?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his chin out. He nodded slowly.

"I would tell you that if you want Picard's help, you and the other Q need to be worthy of his assistance. And… I would also tell you to watch your back."

"Watch my back? Is that _all?_ "

She raised an invisible eyebrow. "Is there anything more important?"

When he disappeared in his customary flash, she noted that it didn't appear as bright as it had all those other times before.

* * *

 **Hello, thanks for all your reviews, I always look forward to reading them. -PP**


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

* * *

"What are you working on?"

Wesley started, jumping in his chair. He turned to look over his shoulder, surprised to see Yar leaning her forearm casually against an engineering work station. He remembered the Captain had warned him to stay away from her. But he couldn't just rush away. That wouldn't be cool.

"Um…nothing," he mumbled, turning back around stiffly, hoping that she would continue through engineering. What was she doing down here anyway?

He jumped again as she pulled up a chair alongside him.

She smiled and leaned on her elbow, watching him with amused expression playing over her face.

"You don't remind me of him...not at all."

Wesley was quizzical, and turned his head to look at her cautiously. "Who?"

She frowned. "Well your father, of course. He's abrasive, arrogant, stubborn..."

"No he's not," Wesley said quickly, feeling incredibly defensive all of a sudden.

Yar laughed. "Protecting your long lost daddy, huh? How sweet..."

Wesley flushed with embarrassment. He fiddled with the project he'd been working on to try and distract himself from his internal terror about the Borg. Now, just the fact that Yar was showing him some attention, was beginning to make him to feel a new kind of dread. But as Yar continued to sit there next to him, he regained some of his confidence enough to ask a question. He glanced at her sideways. "What do you want from Captain Picard, anyway?"

She leaned her head back against the wall panel and crossed her arms. "What an interesting question, Wesley...but I don't think I'm ready to reveal that to you yet. It's just not the right time. But eventually, it will all become clear to you, I promise."

He shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"Get away from my son." Picard stood at the entrance to main engineering, arms hanging loosely at his sides.

She stood up and put a hand on Wesley's shoulder. "You have no authority...remember? You gave it all up to be a boring family man. You can't restrict my access to any area on this ship. "

"I'll make sure your access is restricted in a very permanent way if you don't leave him alone. Now get your hand off of him," he snapped.

She lifted her hands in mock surrender. "Fine. I've got better things to do than hang out with your progeny, anyway, Picard." She walked out past him, halting next to him. Her voice was nearly a whisper. "If you want to keep him safe...you know what you have to do."

* * *

What do you remember?" Beverly ran her tricorder over Geordi's forehead, unable to keep the smile from her face.

Geordi sat up in bed. Mark held his hand tightly, and watched him affectionately as he tried to remember. "Just...the Borg soldier was trying to get to the warp core," said Geordi slowly. "I jumped in front of him to try to distract him, but he just kept heading straight for it. I wrestled with him, which was a very bad idea...he was way too strong. And out of the corner of my eye I could see Yar coming from the other direction. Then I don't remember anything else. I really think she must have saved me, Doc."

Beverly's expression was dubious. "I don't know, Geordi...I'm sure you can't expect to remember everything right away..." She didn't like the idea of Yar getting credit for anything right now, especially for saving Geordi LaForge.

"How are you feeling, LaForge?" Jack Crusher walked into the room with a radiant smile. "You know I was just telling Data we needed you, and now you're back. Just like that!" He snapped his fingers.

Geordi laughed. "To be honest with you, Captain I feel terrific. Almost as if nothing happened, sir.

"Unfortunately some very horrible things did happen, LaForge," said Jack. "In addition to you falling into a coma, the _Hood_ was destroyed, and we lost many great people. And just yesterday we lost Commander Shelby."

Geordi ran his palms down the sides of his face. "What? I can't believe it!"

"But," continued Jack, "thanks to the work you, Data and Shelby did to find those trans warp conduits, we were able to warp into the Delta Quadrant. In fact…we're in Borg space now. And we think we know where to find the Marca II children."

"Well, that's great news at least," Geordi allowed himself a smile.

"Yes," said Jack. "But the trans warp conduit we came through has closed up now, and we can't locate any others."

"So, we're stuck here," said Geordi. He sat up straighter. "I have to get out of bed," he said, his tone suddenly becoming urgent. "I have to find us a way home."

* * *

Worf watched with curiosity as the boy stared at the motionless Borg figure. He hadn't decided, it seemed, whether he wanted to run the program, and the holodeck door remained open. Worf was impressed by the detail of the holographic image. Of course, Klingons had similar technology, but to create an image of an enemy for training purposes was…second-rate in Worf's opinion. Why train with an image, when there were so many real enemies available to fight? "Young man," he said in a booming voice. The teenager spun around startled, nearly jumping out of his boots.

"I did not mean to alarm you," said Worf. "What is it you plan to do with that Borg hologram?"

Wesley shrugged. People seemed to be jumping out at him left and right today. He'd never met Worf formally before, although he had seen him around before the Borg battle and then again over the last few days since the death of Commander Shelby. "I faced a Borg a while back…and one killed someone that I cared about. I honestly don't know what I want to do with it."

Worf nodded in understanding. "You seek to avenge the death of your comrade," he said.

"Well, she was…she was my girlfriend. I know it's wrong to want to kill it. It's just an image. But I want to be ready if I see another Borg. I'm afraid I will freeze up or something."

"Hmm," said Worf. "You are correct to prepare yourself. There will be many Borg where we are going. Were your parents killed in the battle as well?"

Wesley blushed. "No…my Mom is the Chief Medical Officer on board. She's okay, she made it through fine. I think you've met her." Worf nodded in recognition. "And my Dad is Captain—well I have two fathers I guess. "Captain Crusher and Captain Picard."

Worf frowned. "They appear to be quite opposed to one another," he said. "Perhaps they are competing for the attentions of your mother," Worf offered.

Wesley folded his arms over his chest. "Yeah, I think you might actually be right—at least that's part of it. I mean, they used to be such great friends."

Worf nodded and began to circle the Borg. "I will teach you to fight this Borg," he said. "So that both of your fathers will be proud of you," he added.

Wesley grinned. "Okay, Commander Worf. Just please don't tell my mother."

"As you noted, I have met your mother. Do I look like a fool?" rumbled Worf.

* * *

Picard sat in his quarters and traced a circle almost lazily on his data pad with a stylus. It had been so long ago, when he had been a Q and he had only seen it once. He couldn't quite sketch it completely from memory. He erased it from the screen and stared at the after-image blankly. Why couldn't he remember? He felt he would need to in order to find out where the children were on the Borg home world. But why didn't he know this? Why did he think he had seen it on the Borg planet?

He'd never actually been to the Borg home world as a Q...or had he? He began scribbling at the pad again, but kept ending up with the same crude circle. " _Their will must be broken..."_ he heard the Borg prisoner's voice again, as he had when they had been on board the _Batleh_. He hadn't had time to process those eerie words until now. But what did it mean?

"You really don't remember, do you?" Floated the voice of the Q. "We had hoped you would be able to do so on your own-to overcome the mind cleanse..."

"Mind cleanse? What are you talking about?" He stood up, to address the disembodied voices of the Q Continuum. He hadn't heard those voices since they expelled him from the continuum and he realized that he still missed them. For some reason tears came to his eyes.

"Good," they said, ignoring his question. "You can sense our sadness and distress. You are still our child, Picard. Perhaps you will be connected to us for as long as you live. But we fear our time, like the time of your species is coming to an end."

"My _species_ is not coming to an end. I refuse to believe that," exclaimed Picard.

"We hope that your stubbornness will serve you well, Picard. But if you do not remember, your stubbornness will not be enough..."

"Remember what? You said something before about a mind cleanse. I don't have time for your games anymore!" he shouted up at the ceiling.

"You must remember in order to help the Marca II children."

"Do you even care about those children? You never seemed to care before about the pain and suffering committed by the Borg."

"You are wrong. The activities of the Borg concern us greatly."

Picard ran his hands over his hair in frustration. "I don't want to argue with you... _what_ do I need to remember?"

"Do you remember why you became interested in the Borg and their activities during your time with us?"

He laughed harshly. "Isn't it obvious? Look at the relentless destruction they have carried out and continue to carry out."

"But there is something more..."

"I…I cannot pinpoint a specific reason why," he said, becoming very frustrated. Why wouldn't they just tell him? Why must it always be a game?

"It was early on during your time with us, Picard. You were just learning to use your powers with little supervision. You had no concept of the Borg. You had been quite isolated for three of your years. Do you recall?"

"Oh yes, I certainly remember being watched without comment as you studied me like a lab experiment. No matter how much I tried to talk to someone, even myself, no one would speak to me. It was maddening."

"We had to ascertain whether you had the qualities necessary to wield the power. We were pleased with your progress and perhaps we allowed you out on your own too soon. Your…mentor was perhaps ill-fitted to guide you at that time."

"Q?"

"Yes. You were his ward at the time. He was your assigned protector. He should have done better to protect you from what you encountered. What has grown into a fondness for you was at the time more of a fascination—as though you were a new toy. He was suitably punished for his carelessness. Not the first or last time to be sure."

"I don't remember any of this," Picard said quietly. "What did I do?"

"You teleported yourself to the Borg home world. As we have mentioned, when you first encountered the Borg, you knew nothing of them and you did not understand how to properly protect yourself from them."

"But I had the power."

"But you did not know how to properly wield it. At the time we thought it was the unintentional act of a novice Q. But now we cannot help but think that perhaps your fate and that of the Borg were meant to intersect."

He shook his head angrily. "You say I teleported to the Borg home world…accidentally. Then what happened?"

There was a long pause. "This is not for us to say. However, when Q found you, you, had for lack of a better word, gone insane."

"Insane...Q found me?" Silence. He felt a slow chill creep into his quarters. "So, are you going to tell me the rest?"

"You were damaged. When Q returned you to the Continuum we considered letting you go back to your human life, but we reconsidered and cleansed your mind of your experience."

"But it didn't fully work?"

"No. We realized later on, when you developed an obsession with the Borg, that your subconscious human mind would never truly allow you to forget what happened to you."

"But I _have_ forgotten, you see. Look," he said holding up the data pad. "This is all I remember! A blasted circle..."

"Oh, but you have already encountered wisps of a memory buried deep in your mind."

He shook his head and closed his eyes. Immediately, he saw the two green lamps shimmering out of the darkness toward him. He opened his eyes with a gasp. "I don't want to know what happened."

"But you must remember more, Picard," the voices urged him.

"I don't have _time_ to gather up all of my repressed memories. I need to focus on helping this crew reach the Borg planet safely."

"If you arrive at your destination and have no idea what to do, what good will you be to these humans?"

"What happened to me? I told you I do not have the luxury of time."

"There is a way to retrieve this memory. We can do this for you, Picard. But...it will be very unpleasant. Your human family will be concerned but they will need to leave you alone or the process could fail."

"How long will it take?"

"Several of your hours," said the Q.

"What about Yar? You know what she wants."

"We will attempt to shield your power from her while the process is underway."

He thought for a moment. "Just give me five minutes to notify them so they will not be so alarmed," he said. "Then, do what you need to do." He began typing a message into his data pad.

* * *

Beverly looked down into her pocket as her data pad beeped. "Excuse me one moment", she said stepping away from Geordi.

 _"Dear Beverly. I have some business to attend to with the Q. While I will be here physically, I will be unable to speak for the next several hours. Please do not be worried if my appearance seems strange. It is very important that no one disturb me while the process is carried out. Please do not let Wesley worry. Love, JLP."_

"Process?" she whispered to herself. "What process…I have to go," she said in a louder voice and handing her tricorder to Mark LaForge, hurried out of sickbay.

* * *

Yar stepped to Picard's door lightly, looking around her before typing in a security bypass code. There was no answer. Somehow she sensed that the Q were near. Perhaps she could catch him in the act of using his power after all. When she burst in to his quarters, she was surprised at what she saw. She walked slowly around the glowing light. Within it Picard hung suspended, his upper torso and head curved back at an unnatural angle as he stared upward blankly. Occasionally his body and limbs twitched as if in spasm.

Yar turned as the door hissed open and Beverly Crusher rushed in. "Well, once again don't I feel like the other woman," Yar said, smiling craftily.

Beverly was a bit out of breath. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, before her eyes rested on Picard's slowly twisting body, with his eyes fixed blankly at something above him. A white light surrounded him. She let out a shout and ran toward him. She stopped suddenly arms flailing to stop her momentum as she remembered what his message had said about leaving him alone.

She stared helplessly at him, in shock, and then turned to Yar. Yar's face looked eerie in the white light. "Are you-you doing this to him?" Beverly asked in horror.

"Did he tell you I was a Q?" Yar walked slowly toward Beverly. "Just like him? Well, actually better than him…." Beverly froze at her approach. Yar softened her voice. "You know, you and I don't need to be enemies. I don't really want him…I just want his power. Maybe you could help me. You know, it's obvious to me that you could influence him in ways I can't."

Beverly pressed her lips together. "I won't help you, no matter what you do to me," she said tightly. Beverly anxiously looked up at Picard. Was he alive? Her fingers lightly touched the tricorder in her pocket. She just wanted to use it to make sure that he was alright.

Yar continued to advance. "But, what if I agreed to leave you alone, Beverly? Once I have what I want, I won't disturb anyone on this ship. I won't even interfere with your plans to stop my children."

"Your children? What are you talking about?"

"Why the Borg of course…they are so misunderstood; persecuted even."

Beverly laughed. "Your ' _children'_ have done nothing but hurt and kill us since we encountered them. Don't you care about that? Or do you just have such a blind need for power? Have you forgotten how to be a human being?"

"Humans mean nothing to me," Yar snarled suddenly. "I am a Q."

"You are nothing of the sort," a new voice announced, and there was a white flash, as Q entered the room. Beverly stepped back involuntarily.

* * *

Yar laughed. "Just can't stay away, can you, Q?"

"Enough badgering this poor human, Yar," said Q. "Let her leave, and then by all means _you_ leave too. Can't you see the Q have business with Picard?"

Beverly straightened, feeling strangely safer at the re-appearance of Q. "I'm not going anywhere until I make sure Jean-Luc is alright," she said, pulling out her tricorder.

Q shrugged. "Please be my guest," he said, waving her towards Picard. "Just don't touch him," he warned. Beverly nodded quickly and opened the tricorder, running over his twitching shape. Tears came to her eyes and she avoided looking at his face, which looked almost tortured. His readings were not quite normal—his heart rate was elevated and his brain activity was off the charts, but he was alive. "Is he in pain?" she whispered to Q.

Q attempted a sympathetic tone, which he realized required more effort than he was willing to put forth. So he settled for casual. "Not physically…that's really all I can tell you," he said. "Now, can I be assured that you will both leave Picard alone now? I have things to do, you know."

As Q spoke, Yar moved closer to him. Something wonderful just occurred to her. She could feel something rising within her. "Going so soon, Q?"

He made a face at her. "Yes," he said, and with a wave, he flashed away. But as the white light formed in his torso, Yar suddenly thrust her hand into his chest, grabbed and pulled. Q screamed as Yar pulled her fist back out of him triumphantly, her hand clutching a bright white ball of light. It seemed to shimmer and grow in brilliance the longer she held it. Still holding the orb, she cocked her arm back and punched Q in the chest, sending him careening through the bulkhead and out into space. Had they been out in space they would have seen him explode into millions of fragments of light. And with that, Q was no more.

Yar turned to Beverly darkly. "If I decide to return here, I promise that you and the rest of this crew will experience a new kind of fear. Give Picard my regards, when he wakes up. He's the only one I will miss." She flashed away at that.

Beverly sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. As she sat, she stared up at Picard, still silently turning in mid-air.

* * *

 **Inside of his mind...**

It was only the third time he had teleported anywhere, and the physical and mental rush was magnified each time. He had promised himself and Q that he would teleport somewhere and then immediately return. He still had trouble getting back exactly to where he'd originated from. It required concentration couldn't quite apply, and knowledge perhaps he hadn't quite gained yet. He landed in a crouching position. Better than last time. He opened his eyes to see a grey metal grate-like floor. He sniffed in and noted a sterile smell, metallic in a way. But underneath there was something else. Something he couldn't quite place yet. He glanced around and saw nothing of note. It was very dark; wherever it was that he had landed. He stood slowly to his feet and listened carefully. He looked down at his hands and saw that while he was standing on the floor, it appeared to be very low gravity. His arms floated strangely at his sides.

Q would be expecting him back soon; wondering why he hadn't had the concentration to return immediately as he had promised. He shut his eyes, and tried to think it into possibility as he had done before, but the power wasn't interested in working for him right now. He turned slowly and felt his body floating slightly, just off the strange walkway. He would need to focus on either leaving or negating the low gravity, which was making it difficult for him to move quickly. He knew he would have trouble concentrating to do both. _"You must work harder to compensate for having such a small brain, Picard,"_ Q had told him recently. He shut his eyes again and concentrated. That was when he first heard the screams.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

* * *

He pressed himself against the cold wall and inched along it. He heard the sound of heavy boots on the other side around the corner. The screams had come from that direction, from beyond the boots. His breath came in shallow gasps. He hadn't been in anything resembling this environment before. It wasn't technology he was familiar with. Strange triangular green nodes were situated above the walkway in several places. Were they communications devices, or were they keeping track of his movements? As strange, metallic and claustrophobic the environment was, he did not think he was on board a ship. No, this was a base of some sort.

He shut his eyes, hearing the screams again. They were coming from far away and from at least one level below where he was. Just around the corner ahead of him, he heard a door hiss open and then shut as boots stomped mechanically out. They marched away from his hiding place, and he allowed himself a deep inhale and exhale. Not sure of his motivations, he stepped quickly around the corner and moved toward the room. The door opened without resistance and he stepped inside.

A bubbling sound dominated the room. He was surrounded by vats of a pink-hued thick liquid. The bubbling sound grew louder as he approached. It wasn't until he stood directly over one of the vats that he saw that its contents contained bluish tentacles, which floated in the viscous pink material. He felt immediately ill, and moved to the next vat. Leaning over, he jumping back with a yelp as a three-toed foot bobbed to the surface. It wasn't attached to a limb; it was just a foot, and was the same blue skin color as the tentacles in the last vat.

Breathing erratically, he back up quickly and then turned and ducked out of the room. The hallway was empty but he still heard boots in the distance. He began to proceed cautiously down the hall. And every now and then he heard a sustained scream, followed by silence.

* * *

Jack Crusher looked around the conference table at his senior staff. Commander Worf had returned to the _Batleh_ about an hour previously, but was participating in the meeting remotely. His stern image glared at them from the large conference view screen at the end of the table. "So, as Doctor Crusher has explained," said Jack, "we're now in a situation where Jean-Luc is now for some reason back under the influence of the Q, although according to his message, he will be returning to us in a few hours…."

He shook his head, wondering what could possibly happen next. He'd seen Jean-Luc floating oddly in his quarters, after Beverly had summoned him there a while earlier, and he could still hardly believe his own eyes. "Doctor Crusher will continue to monitor him, to ensure his safety during this…procedure, and we can only hope that Jean-Luc will be alright when it is done. For the record, we have no idea what the Q are doing to him."

He interlaced his fingers on the table in front of him. "Perhaps even more shocking and disturbing is that Agent Yar is also a Q, and she left the ship after apparently killing a member of the Q Continuum, known only to Dr. Crusher as, oddly enough…Q."

"She threatened us, Captain," said Beverly. "She said if she returned we would learn a new kind of fear."

"Yar's inclusion of the conjunctive 'if' in her threat suggests that she may not intend to return to this ship at all," said Data.

"When I first met Jean-Luc's Q friend, he explained that Yar was somehow involved in the Borg's development when she was a Q. She was expelled by the Q for trying to get revenge on humanity by influencing the Borg to become interested in humans."

"Beverly, why didn't you tell us any of this before?" Walker said gently. He couldn't exactly be outraged, given that he had also figured it out shortly before Shelby's death, and had chosen to keep it to himself as well.

"I promised Jean-Luc that I wouldn't tell anyone. He was trying to protect the people on this ship. He thought if Yar knew that _we_ knew her intent to re-gain the power of the Q, she would destroy us all once she gained it."

"And so, now what's stopping her from doing just that?" Geordi raised his eyebrows.

"Nothing," said Jack. "She has unlimited power, doesn't she? But I suppose the Q could just kick her out again."

Beverly shook her head. "It's not that simple. I don't entirely understand it, but she has some ability that even the Q are afraid of. They seem to expect Jean-Luc to save them from Yar."

" _What?_ " Jack exclaimed.

"He only has one use of the Q power left," said Beverly. she felt the intense stares of her colleagues.

"One use," Walker said slowly. "That's why he's been so careful about using it."

"The Q seem to think he will be able to save us all," said Beverly.

"But the all-knowing, god-like beings can't save themselves?" Geordi asked.

"I don't know, Geordi, I didn't say any of this made sense," said Beverly, shaking her head.

"If Yar really intends to exact revenge on humanity, she may have other goals in mind," said Riker. "We might no longer be a concern of hers. She was with us to obtain Picard's power, and once she found another way…all I am suggesting is that she might not care about us anymore."

"Revenge against humanity for what?" said Worf.

"She's from Turkana IV," Walker said. "If I grew up on Turkana and then was abducted by an alien race with super powers, who later evicted me, I might be a very bitter person. I might want revenge for Turkana having been abandoned by the Federation, and for my childhood having been a complete mess. And having that power, I might seek out revenge."

"But against whom?" Deanna Troi asked. "I don't like being the one to say it, but Earth is the obvious target of her wrath. Turkana IV was a playground for Earth travelers and then was later abandoned, becoming a drug and crime-infested hell. Probably the one into which she was born."

Everyone fell silent.

After a few uncomfortable moments, Jack spoke again. "Well…that brings us to our next topic, which is that the _Enterprise_ is currently in no position to stop Yar, the Borg or anyone else from attacking Earth. We're over forty-years away from Earth, unless we find a trans warp conduit," said Jack.

"We're working on it," said Geordi, nodding toward Data. "Actually, we'd like to get Mr. Crusher's input as well, if you don't mind, sir" he said.

Jack hesitated, glancing at Beverly who nodded. "I want my son safe, but I recognize he has some special abilities that could be of use to this project. So yes…but be careful," said Jack.

Geordi nodded with a smile. "Understood."

Jack turned to Worf on the view screen. "We have another dilemma, Commander. We have no idea how to proceed to find the Marca children once we arrive at the Borg planet, because we were relying primarily on Jean-Luc and his knowledge of the Q to show us the way. He's now incapacitated, but the longer we delay without proceeding to the planet, the more we risk being identified by the Borg. We are going to lose our ability to keep both ships cloaked; the only question is when. So, my plan, if you agree, is to proceed cloaked to the Borg planet and wait for Jean-Luc to wake up."

"You…believe that he will have all the answers when he does?" Worf said somewhat suspiciously.

"Based on my experience, I am going to trust that he will have the ones that we need," said Jack firmly.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Jack touched Beverly's arm as the others filed out of the conference room. She turned to look at him.

She couldn't see the signs of jealousy she had come to expect from Jack these last few weeks, so she allowed her expression to soften. "Yes," she said. "Thank you for asking."

"This whole thing with Jean-Luc and the Q…" Jack trailed off in mid-sentence. "I really don't know what to think."

"I don't either," she said. "But in his note he assured me he would be fine."

"But you don't believe him," Jack said with a slightly sympathetic smile.

Beverly put her hands in the pockets of her lab coat but said nothing. She felt that she was on the verge of breaking down crying, but she was trying to hold it together. Bringing her hand to her forehead, she turned to leave, but Jack stopped her.

"Wait," he said. "I hate to see you this way," he said reaching out to gather her into a hug. At first she stiffened, but then slowly relaxed into his embrace.

They stood this way for a few moments, until she pulled back, studying his face. Grabbing her to him again, this time almost desperately, he kissed her. She responded by pushing him away roughly, but he gripped her arms. "This isn't what I want, Jack," she said firmly, looking him directly in the eye. Abruptly he dropped his hands and stepped back against the table as she exited the room quickly.

* * *

When Beverly walked into Jean-Luc's quarters, Guinan was there. She sat in apparent meditation next to Picard, who continued to sway back and forth in mid-air as if attached to a string. Guinan got to her feet fluidly and turned to face Beverly.

Beverly put her med kit down on the table. "If you knew what they were doing to him, would you tell me?"

Guinan adjusted her hat. "It's called memory retrieval," she said simply. "They are helping him to remember something he should have never experienced in the first place."

"Why?"

"Because without that memory there will be no future," she said, moving to leave.

"Am I selfish?" Beverly blurted out as Guinan reached the doorway. The bartender turned back around slowly with a questioning expression.

"I want him to wake up. I don't care about fate or even saving anyone right now. I just want to be with him for as long as we have left."

"I'm not sure if that's selfish or not," said Guinan. "But it sounds very human to me.".

After Guinan left, Beverly took out her tricorder and began taking his vitals. Suddenly his body jerked, and his mouth opened in a look of silent horror.

* * *

 **A Few Hours later...**

"How is he?" Jack asked, stopping in the doorway of her office.

Beverly looked up at him. "He's the same," she said flatly, and turned back to finishing Geordi's discharge report.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Bev." He looked down at his feet momentarily. "I really didn't think you were going to leave his side."

"Well, I do have work to do. But Jack, you've seen the way he's just…just hanging there. Have no idea what's even happening to him. As a doctor, do you have any idea how that makes me feel? I can't do a damn thing to help him." Again, she turned back to what she had been doing.

"Well…look, you can be honest with me, Beverly. I _am_ your husband, after all…." She looked up at him sharply at that. There, he'd finally gained her attention; something that had seemed almost impossible for him to do lately. "I know your feelings for him have nothing to do with you being concerned for his health."

She stood up and leaned over her desk. "Oh you _know_ that, do you, Jack? Are you attuned to my feelings now, after being clueless for so long?"

"Come on, Bev, that's not fair. I've tried to be understanding, but we're still married. Am I just supposed to ignore that you and Jean-Luc are having non-stop sex everywhere on the ship while I'm looking like an idiot?"

Beverly flushed angrily. "Everywhere on the ship? Well, you have quite the imagination about this don't you Jack? Are you suggesting that I'm throwing this in your face?"

"I'm still Captain of this ship, and you're making me look pathetic."

"Oh…so this is about your reputation? Well, I'm sure your future political career will be safe Jack. That is, if we ever get out of the Delta Quadrant alive!"

"Do you still have them?"

Beverly shook her head in confusion. "What?"

Jack moved around her desk quickly. "The divorce documents you threatened me with months ago; because I will sign the damn things _right now_!"

"You think I keep the divorce documents in my office drawer waiting for you to come by and sign them? Jack, I can't do this with you right now." She sat back down.

"Then send them to me when you go back to your quarters. I can't do this with _you_ anymore, Beverly. You don't love me, and I want out." Abruptly, he turned and left her office.

* * *

He wanted to leave, but something was telling him to continue to explore. He wanted to know where he was, and he wanted to know why he kept hearing someone or something in distress. He moved quickly to the level below and listened for the screams again, but it had grown quiet once more. Suddenly a door opened and he froze at the sound of heavy marching boots again.

It seemed these things were able to counter the low gravity with these boots. They had no trouble, as he had, of moving efficiently. Suddenly he saw them. There were three of them and they seemed to pivot in unison when they spotted hm. " _It won't work properly for you, if you are not in control of it. You can't be afraid or otherwise full of emotion, Picard, or the power will not cooperate with you—at least not now while you are new to the Continuum,"_ Q had told him.

They were dressed completely in black and had odd mechanical contraptions attached to their arms and legs. The whirring of tiny motors now competed with the sound of stomping boots. Their gait was stiff and robotic, and their faces seemed drained of any color. They seemed to notice that he was there, but seemed unsurprised by his sudden arrival.

He tried to calm himself, and raised his hand in self-defense. He could intensely sense their lack of concern for his welfare; and yet they now seemed interested in him. As he held his arm at the ready, a white glow began to emanate from his hand. As they closed in on him, he clenched his fist, but the light suddenly faded, failing him.

Hearing a step behind him, he tried to turn, just as a thin green filament was thrust into his temple. He screamed and fell writhing to the floor. A figure in black bent over him, holding a small device in its palm. It squeezed the device and an electrical wave passed from his head to his feet, causing his muscles to freeze in a series of agonizing cramps. He tried to tell himself to teleport, tried to concentrate through the pain, but it was too late. Too late for him.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

* * *

 **The Borg Doctor…**

They carried him quickly down the hall and then down a ramp to the level below. Inside his mind he protested, but the device they had stuck in his temple spread an electric current throughout his body that made it impossible to bend his limbs. His chest felt paralyzed from the device and his only focus was to keep breathing. "Where…where are you taking me?" he heard himself gasp. His voice sounded and felt like gravel as though it had been altered somehow. There was something wrong with his brain. His concentration was fragmented. He needed to concentrate in order to use the Power, but he could not.

"You must be examined by the doctor," said the creatures in unison. There was an electronic undertone to their voices, and when they spoke it sounded as though they were many more of them.

"I don't need a doctor. You must let me go. I am here by mistake. I mean you no harm," he rasped.

"You cannot harm us. You are weak. We are strong," they replied.

"Please let me go," he said, trying to keep his voice strong, trying to keep from showing his fear.

"The doctor will determine your worth to us. The doctor will determine if you are to be assimilated."

Abruptly they halted in front of another dark room. A door jerked open, and they dragged him inside. The room appeared empty save for a large black table in its center. They dropped him roughly on to the table. He tried to roll off, but his limbs were still frozen. The three creatures held him in place. The material on the table was soft, and he began to sink into it, the black material molding around his body so that he was unable to move. Truly frightened now, he could no longer control his breathing and began to hyperventilate.

He tried to remember what he would have done when he was a captain. He would have stated his name and serial number; he would have quoted Starfleet regulations. He would have refused to cooperate. But he was with the Q now. A whole lot of good that did him, as he lay helpless and frightened and unable to use the power he had only recently learned to use.

"I have no quarrel with you," he said, and his voice sounded very small and weak. "I have no information that could be of use to you. I am not in the military. Please, what do you want?"

The Borg with the handheld device squeezed it and the buzzing in his brain increased again. His thoughts seemed to fragment as quickly as they were generated. He could not tell if the words that came out of his mouth were even coherent.

Suddenly the creatures stepped back in unison, and a whirring sound came from overhead. A sphincter-like hatch up above opened and his eyes fixed upward as a large object spun down from the ceiling. His first thought was that it resembled a giant spider. It was made of the same black metal armor the other creatures wore, and had multiple segmented arms.

As it descended he could see that at its center was a torso, almost humanoid in shape. The head of the torso resembled that of the other creatures. It was a pale white, corpse-like, and hairless. It wore goggles, which had a glowing greenish tint, and gave Picard the impression of an insect.

"The Doctor," said the other creatures.

* * *

The doctor peered down at him through its tinted goggles. One of its robotic arms raised and emitted a red laser scanner, which slowly ran over his motionless body. "Human number 131," said the Doctor. "This human will now be catalogued in the required manner. This human is in good health, but requires repair and improvement."

Picard tried to shake his head vigorously, but he was still unable to move anything but his eyes and mouth. "Please," he said. "Let me go."

"Human bodies are weak but their minds are stubborn. They are as yet unsuitable for advanced assimilation."

"Then let me go, if I am unsuitable then I am of no use to you."

"All useful parts can be salvaged," said the Doctor. "Even primitive parts can be removed and replaced. We are Borg. Your primitive functions will be improved upon by enhancing your compatibility with our systems."

"No, stop," he said, beginning to truly panic. "I am a human being. I'm not meant to be here. Just set me free and I will leave…I promise you. Please…."

The greenish goggles glinted in the dim light. A brighter light from above turned on, and seemed to focus on his body. The Borg doctor dropped down closer. Raising one of its arms with a hydraulic whine a blast of forced hot air blew onto Picard's body removing his clothing instantly as if it were incinerated. He felt the hair on his body singed off. "No!" he screamed his survival instincts now all that he had. But the more that he tried to twist out of the molded table, the more that it gripped his body.

* * *

Wesley slowed his pace as he and Data neared Captain Picard's quarters. He slowed and stared blankly in that direction. "He wasn't answering his door earlier. Data I think something might be wrong… I'm going to go and check on him," he decided, veering off the main corridor.

"Wesley, I do not think you should interfere..." Data said, hesitating before following behind him.

Ignoring Data, Wesley pressed the security override on Picard's door. He didn't expect an answer. But this time, to his surprise, his mother appeared at the door looking tired, and wearing her work clothes. She seemed agitated, but didn't say anything as she leaned against the door frame.

"Mom what's going on? Where is the Captain?" He took a step forward.

His mother shook her head and moved to block him from entering. "No, Wesley, I'm sorry, but you can't come in right now."

"Why? What's going on? Mom, I can tell by your face that something's wrong. Is he in there?" He stepped to the left and tried to look over her shoulder.

"Yes. He's…not feeling well right now, but he's going to be alright," she said, completely unsure of the accuracy of that statement.

"Then why can't I see him?" he insisted.

"He wouldn't want you to see him like this Wes. And I don't want you to either."

"See him like what?" He tried to get a better look inside and could now see the edge of a bright glow coming from the living area. He felt a sudden surge of terror.

"Are they taking him again? Mom! They can't take him again mom, I won't let them!" He tried to rush inside but Data caught and held his shoulders gently but firmly. "Let me go!" he screamed, struggling against Data's immovable grip.

"Wesley! They are not taking him anywhere. Please, you have to trust me," said Beverly trying to calm herself down as well as her son. "Now the best place for you now is in Engineering where you can help Geordi and Data. I _promise_ you once things are a little better you will be able to talk to him...okay?"

Data released him gently but Wesley refused to look up at her. She could tell he was already embarrassed by his outburst of emotion. He wiped at his eyes, still staring at the floor. "Okay," he mumbled.

* * *

Beverly uncurled herself and pushed herself up on her elbow to find Marca lying next to her on the floor. She pushed her hair back which had fallen wildly into her face. Both she and Marca had fallen asleep watching over Jean-Luc, whose overall condition had remained unchanged. Over the last few hours since Wesley had gone, she and the dog had bonded over this new strange development. Jean-Luc was still present in his quarters, yet he was also very absent.

Meanwhile the Enterprise and the Batleh crept together at full impulse toward the Borg Home World. They would arrive at the planet in roughly four hours, and the mood on the Enterprise was to say the least gloomy. No one knew what to expect, and the knowledge that Earth was now at greater risk had shocked everyone to their core.

"Marca, are you hungry?" she asked getting to her feet. Marca stretched and looked at her. Wagging her tail in agreement she wandered behind Beverly over to the food replicator. "Let's see…what do you like to eat?" she murmured. Wesley had mentioned Marca liked to eat whole roasted chickens. " _I'm_ not cleaning that up," said Beverly looking down at the dog. She programmed in a request for two tuna sandwiches, and handed one to the dog. "Here, somehow I don't think you are very picky."

Having swallowed the sandwich whole, Marca followed Beverly back over to the dining room table. Beverly sat down and began to eat absently, staring into space. She wondered how much longer Jean-Luc would be in this kind of suspended state, seemingly frozen and unaware of his surroundings.

But then something changed. Jean-Luc emitted a low groan and his body convulsed. She jumped to her feet and ran over to him. His eyes were still closed tightly, but his mouth was moving quickly uttering mostly unintelligible words.

"Crusher to Counselor Troi," she said.

"Troi here," came Deanna's voice.

"I need your help. Jean-Luc is talking. Can you come right away?"

"Of course, I will be right there."

Beverly turned back to regard Jean-Luc, scanning him with her tricorder. If only she could just touch him, and feel that connection they had, things would be a little better. She reached up with her hand, knowing that she couldn't touch him, but maybe if he knew she wanted to, that she was with him, something about his experience would be easier.

"Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" he began to scream over and over. She jerked backward and sat back down on the floor, helpless and miserable.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

* * *

 **Assimilation**

The green goggles peered down into his face. "This human requires additional repair."

The only thing he could hear was the sound of his rapid, desperate breathing. He shut his eyes and tried to teleport, but the ability to control his mental and physical faculties was as far away as it had ever been.

"Human number 131 is too weak for use in the construction of the spacefaring cube modules. A different use must be determined, or destruction will be necessary. It is better to salvage the parts, however primitive than to destroy. Assimilation is preferable to destruction."

"Applying anesthetic," said the doctor, and a spray of blue chemical film flowed over his body. His skin numbed instantly. His breathing became even more rapid. One of the multiple arms unfolded from its body, and extended a long thin filament with a glowing orange tip.

He could feel the heat from it, and as it was directed down to his lower torso, he began to shout. "Don't touch me!" He screamed it until he felt the glowing tip make contact with his numbed skin, and then he screamed without awareness of what he was saying.

The burn was excruciating but quick, and the filament lifted back up and folded back into the robotic torso. "Reproductive sterilization is complete," said the doctor.

Picard began to cry, talking to himself incoherently. "Please," he whispered.

"Human number 131 has a mechanical cardiac organ which can be adapted and enhanced to meet our needs," said the doctor.

As it spoke, another arm unfolded to reveal a shining surgical instrument resembling a laser scalpel. As it descended toward his chest, he shut his eyes tightly, and could finally remember clearly his former life.

* * *

"You see here," said Geordi, pointing at the holographic star chart. "It's just a blip, like a ripple in time-space." He leaned on the main workstation in Engineering. Data stood almost motionless beside him, and Wesley Crusher slumped over, resting his chin on his hand.

"We can't be certain what it is, though," said Wesley, rubbing his eyes tiredly. They had been staring at the same star chart for hours, looking at the same time-space blips.

"You are correct, Wesley," said Data. "However, now that we have identified the basic signature for the trans warp conduit, it is probable that we will locate one," he said.

"The problem is one of time though," said Geordi. "We know they're out there, but we have no control over when a conduit will appear." They fell silent for a few moments.

"What if we could make one appear?" said Wesley all of a sudden.

After a moment, Geordi grinned. "Yeah, I think you might be on to something, Wes."

"A tachyon pulse could be transmitted from our main deflector," said Data.

"But we're using the main deflector right now to maintain our cloak," said Geordi. "We can't do both. We have to find another way."

* * *

 **The Q Continuum…**

"You should not have returned uninvited. Your attempts to destroy us will fail," said the Q.

"Don't be so sure," said Yar. "You've never had to fight for survival and you don't know what you are up against. I on the other hand have done nothing but struggle to survive my entire life. And as you can see, I am still alive."

"Why do you hate us?" they asked.

"I don't hate you," said Yar. "I hate humans. And if you are willing to follow my lead, I may keep you around."

"We do not accept your human view of hierarchy, and dominance. We will not accept you."

"Then you will be very, very sorry," replied Yar.

* * *

 **Evolution...**

 **On an uncharted planet in the Delta Quadrant…**

The shiny globule slid down a smooth rock, catching on a single irregularity, which altered its path but did not deter it before it dropped to the ground. It may have been just a globule but it had the potential to be something else. Most importantly it possessed consciousness. When it reached the dirt it continued to roll and gained momentum as though it had purpose. And it did have a purpose. It had to find the rest of itself; had to put itself back together again. Sensing another shimmering globule nearby, it rolled forward. As it reached its counterpart, it slowed as if in recognition, and then the two tiny drops merged into one. _"Only 22 thousand more particles to go,"_ thought Q determinedly.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

* * *

Deanna stood next to Beverly as they looked up at Picard. His twitching had become more constant as though he were having a seizure. Periodically he would shout for someone or something to get away from him

"How long has he been vocalizing like this?" Deanna asked.

"For about ten minutes," said Beverly. "I really don't know what to do, Deanna," she said despondently.

"Didn't the Q tell you there was nothing you _could_ do? You were told not to interfere, Beverly."

Beverly didn't answer, but instead walked over to a chair and sat down. "You can't read his actual thoughts, can you?" Beverly ventured after a few moments, looking up at her friend.

Deanna sat down across from her and looked at her closely. "If I could read his thoughts would you really want to know them?"

"I…I don't know, Deanna, I just don't want him to suffer."

Troi leaned over and put her hand on Beverly's. "Beverly, you cannot interfere with the process, so if you knew how he was feeling wouldn't it make you feel that much more helpless?"

Beverly sighed and leaned back in her chair, pulling her hand away. "You may be right...but still," she added, glancing at Troi again.

Deanna smiled compassionately. "The answer is no, I can't read specific thoughts, at least consistently. But I _can_ tell you what he is feeling. Now the question is, do you really want to know?"

Beverly folded her arms over her chest almost defensively and stared through her friend.

Deanna sighed and looked down at her knees. "Very well," she agreed. "Just give me a few moments."

Beverly watched Troi as she settled back into the couch and shut her eyes. Her eyelids began to flutter as she spoke. "He is very frightened. His thoughts are completely incoherent. He is terrified and in pain…he want nothing more but to escape...but these are only memories."

Beverly hugged herself tightly and stared at the floor, unable to look at Jean-Luc any longer. "Memories of what?"

Troi closed her eyes for a few moments and when she opened them again they were filled with tears. "Abduction," she said quietly. "Violation."

"The Q?" Beverly asked, wiping tears away from her own eyes.

"No…something much worse," said Deanna.

* * *

When he awoke he couldn't speak, not that speaking would have served him. His tongue felt swollen and useless in his mouth. But oddly he was not hungry or thirsty at all. A ruby red coating covered his eyes giving everything he looked at a scarlet appearance. As his eyes surveyed the room he saw the Doctor resting overhead. The Doctor had been waiting for him to wake up.

Slowly it tilted its head focusing in on his face as a hydraulic movement brought the Doctor down closer to him. One of the Doctor's arms reached out and pushed a small device into his temple. It was not painful. Strangely he felt a sense of calm pass through he would learn his new purpose. The Doctor had only his best interests in mind. Soon he would help to power the machines like the others. He would complete the circuit.

"This Borg drone will test its new parts, before implementation," said the Doctor. It was a suggestion, but also a command, which he now felt inclined to follow without question.

He could move now. Following the Doctor's direction, he sat up stiffly and examined himself. He still appeared naked but his skin felt rubbery as though it were covered by a thin veneer.

"This Borg drone no longer requires human protective coverings. Its design has been improved upon. This Borg has been modified for submerged production and operation," the Doctor explained.

He moved his right arm up to look at it, and discovered that his hand had been removed. His wrist had been fitted with an electrical port. He stared at it in wonder. Everything made complete sense to him now. He no longer needed to struggle.

"This drone is now operational. Its artificial cardiac organ has been enhanced," said the Doctor.

Jerkily he looked down at his chest to find an opening over his heart. He reached into the hole to touch his heart. It was beating very slowly.

The doctor dropped lower to look into his eyes. "The efficiency of the cardiac organ has been increased. It will be able to conduct and direct electrical current to power the generator."

He now understood his place. "We are Borg," said the drone.

* * *

They walked him to the edge of the tube. The many voices inside his head told him what to do next. He climbed into the tube, and without further delay he was sucked downward at a rapid speed. As he slid down the tube he could feel an intense thrumming vibration surrounding his body as he continued to drop. The thrumming grew louder and made his temples vibrate. Finally he dropped into an immense tank of pinkish liquid. He came to the surface and sucked in a breath. Two drones approached him and lifted him out of the tank. He knew they were going to take him somewhere to carry out his purpose. He was newly born, but he would learn quickly.

A hatch opened with a whine nearby to reveal a small chamber roughly the size of his body. Inside was more pink liquid. This was to be his new home, the voices told him. The drones lifted him up and pushed him into the tiny space so that he was facing up and out at them. They pushed firmly on his chest until he was folded into the space in a fetal position. The liquid rose over his face and entered his nose and mouth and he found that he could breathe it into his lungs without concern. Grabbing his right arm, no longer limited by a primitive hand, they plugged his wrist into the side of the chamber, and he felt a jolt of energy surge throughout his body.

One drone pushed a button and a segmented metal tube snaked out of the side of the chamber. It appeared to be alive and searching for something. He watched as it seemed to look at him and then suddenly plunged into the hole in his chest, attaching to his mechanical heart. Now his heart began to beat at the same rate and rhythm of the thrumming that filled the room. Now he had a purpose: to power the generator. The drones closed the hatch and sealed it over his head with a hiss as the liquid rushed in and over his head. Darkness descended and he had purpose.

* * *

 **The Continuum**

Yar held them like fireflies in the palm of her hand. Dressed in white she sat on a large ivory colored throne covered in gold. Perhaps it was too dramatic a touch, but after all, she had been human once; and humans loved drama. It had been too easy. How had she ever doubted herself?

The Q had not been able to use the Power as skillfully as she, and the Power had given in to her will, as she had hoped and as they had feared. Standing up, she moved to the giant clear container situated nearby. Pushing her fist into the enclosure, she opened her hand and the tiny Q entities floated out and drifted around aimlessly. Smiling to herself, Yar straightened and walked back to her throne, sitting down again.

"Now my children," she said, and opening her palm a small cube-shaped ship appeared in the center of her hand. "To earth," she said, and gave it a gentle toss away from her.

* * *

 **On Earth**

"A fleet of over one hundred Borg ships is now headed for Earth," said Vice Admiral Nechayev, her usually impassive face now showing visible signs of stress. The rest of the admirals in the conference hall listened with somber faces.

"Has there been any word from the _Enterprise_? Many of us have been awaiting news, after their successful defeat of those Borg ships."

Nechayev's steely expression returned as she addressed one of her colleagues. "No word. The _Enterprise_ entered the Delta Quadrant days ago, in pursuit of the Marca Colony children. But if I know Jack Crusher, every effort is being made to return to Earth."

"Well...we need the _Enterprise_ and every other ship possible."

"We have what we have," Nechayev snapped. "The Klingon Empire has promised to commit a third of its fleet to help us defend the terran system. We are doing our best to prepare, and we will prevail," she said confidently.


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

 _ **Enterprise**_

Riker looked at Crusher grimly. "Earth's chances aren't good, Jack. If Yar is sending the Borg to attack our people, we may be returning to something we can't even comprehend."

Jack nodded morosely. "The Borg are a hundred years ahead of us in many ways, and the bottom line is they have more ships and more firepower. They're relentless," added. "I can't help but question my decision to enter the Delta Quadrant."

"First of all, it was a joint decision," Riker said. "And it was the right one."

Jack got up and put his hands on his hips. "How can you be sure? With Yar and the Borg on the move..."

"With everything to lose, Jack…we need to get those kids back. If we are going to save humanity, we can't forget the things that make us human. And we're in the heart of Borg territory. When will a Federation ship ever have a chance again to be this close? While we're out here, we might as well try and strike a blow and literally hit them where they live."

* * *

After a little while, Picard seemed to grow calm. Oddly, he drew into a fetal position and floated quietly. Gradually he stopped twitching and grew still. Deanna decided to stay with Beverly until he regained consciousness, and they talked quietly as the hours passed slowly.

Eventually they grew quiet again, and Deanna looked down at her hands. "So, I know this is usually happy news, but given our predicament, I don't know what to think. I know we haven't known each other long, but after all we've been through in such a short time, I trust you, and so I thought I would tell you…I just learned that I am pregnant."

Beverly leaned forward and grabbed Deanna's hands with as much exuberance as she could muster at a time like this. "Really? How wonderful…I am so happy for you and Will. He must be excited."

Deanna continued to stare at her hands. "Well, he is…but he's trying to keep calm about it. We both are, since so much is uncertain. I mean we are, for the moment stuck here in enemy territory after all."

Beverly held on to her hands and squeezed. "We are going to get out of here. I can feel it. As soon as Jean-Luc wakes up, he'll know what to do next, and then we can finish what we started and go home, Deanna."

Deanna looked into her friend's eyes. "But will we have a home to return to? Will my child have a home?"

* * *

 **2356 Q**

He floated as a bright light above the tank. The Borg of course were oblivious. " _'Give him a memory',_ they told me. _'Give him the right memory and he will be able to do it on his own',_ they said. _But look at you…_." The figure continued to float unresponsive in the pink goo the Borg considered nutrients; nutrients sufficient to keep a drone alive enough to be of use to the collective.

"Picard... I've given you one hundred memories already, and yet you continue to float there in that sludge as though you are perfectly content. Are you doing this just to spite me, Picard?" complained Q. There was no change in the emotional or intellectual response of the Borg drone, meaning there was no response at all.

"Whether you make it out of here or not, I've been promised punishment for leaving you here at the mercy of the Borg. The problem for _you_ is that the Borg _have_ no mercy...so I am assuming you haven't enjoyed your stay. I admit I didn't follow every gory detail, because after all, I have more important things to do than keep track of you, Picard." The still figure continued to float unresponsively.

"Picard, I'm sorry... _there_ , I've said it! Do you see the depths to which I have now been forced to sink because of your foolishness? I've never apologized to a soul before you, Picard. Please have mercy on me."

The figure inside the tank twitched, but more likely than not it was the result of an electrical current. "I suggested that you pick some place interesting to teleport to, and instead you picked this heap? Oh what bad luck you have, Picard. The _worst_ bad luck. I'll walk you through a way out of this Picard, but you've got to take those first steps yourself. The Q want you to prove you can do it. Do you hear me? Wake up!" Nothing...

What would be enough to jog Picard's former self back to consciousness? Q pondered the question with his brilliant mind. Suddenly it occurred to him. What had been the subject of his nearly obsessive thoughts when he was first taken by the Q?...besides his secret son, of course, because that subject had been declared off limits. Yes, that's right...the woman...the unrequited love. That had potential, Q thought.

* * *

 ** _2345 Earth_**

 _Captain Walker Keel and Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat together looking out at the dance floor. It was a retirement party for Admiral Herzog, who most of the guests would agree was an all-around awful person. However, by all accounts Herzog had been a great commanding officer, at least so they had both been told. Neither man had had the fortune- or misfortune rather- of serving alongside Herzog, so they hadn't anything really bad or good to say about him. That said, attendance was all but required for anyone active in Starfleet, and so they had gone. At least, thought Walker, the food had been good._

 _Walker leaned back in his chair and sipped at his drink, which he had to admit, was the best that credits could buy. "God, this is a horrible party," he said. He glanced at Picard, who was staring out at the dance floor. "Are you even listening to me, Jean-Luc?"_

 _Picard continued to stare at the dance floor, as he replied "Hmm?" absently._

 _"You've been quiet all night, what's going on?" Walker said, somewhat annoyed. "The party…it's horrible and boring right?"_

 _Picard smiled slightly and tapped his fingertips on the table. "Oh, it's not so bad," he said glancing at Walker and then returning his gaze back to the dance floor, where Jack Crusher and his new girlfriend Beverly Howard spun and moved seemingly oblivious to anyone but themselves._

 _Walker followed his gaze. "Jack says she's the most beautiful woman he's ever dated," said Walker. "And I can see he's not the only one who's impressed, Jean-Luc."_

 _Jean-Luc frowned and looked at his friend. "Is it obvious? I'm trying not to stare Walker. Just kick me under the table or something, when she comes over, if I stare inappropriately."_

 _"Don't worry, she's only got eyes for Jack, she won't notice you," said Walker. "Besides, I told her you were the most boring man on Earth anyway," he added._

 _"That is why I stay off world as much as possible," said Jean-Luc dryly. "Anyway, you forget I've already met her, so I am sure she judged the same about me already, Walker."_

 _Picard turned his head as he felt Walker staring at him. "What?"_

 _Walker shook his head slowly, but said nothing. "Here they come," he said, looking up suddenly. He stood up grinning as they approached, glancing at Picard out of the corner of his eye. His friend remained seated and was trying to appear nonchalant._

 _Beverly and Jack jogged over to them hand in hand. They stopped short in front of the table, laughing and out of breath._

 _"You're killing me," said Jack, falling into an empty chair. "I told you I couldn't dance, but you just won't listen," he laughed._

 _"Even you can be taught, Jack," she laughed, and leaned over putting her arms around his neck. He leaned into her and she whispered something in his ear, which caused him to start laughing again._

 _Picard shifted uncomfortably and stared at a point on the farthest edge of the table. Jack grabbed a glass of water, downing it quickly. "I need a rest," he declared._

 _"Oh come on," said Beverly rolling her eyes. "Okay," she said, looking at Walker and Jean-Luc. "Who's next then?"_

 _"You don't like it when I step on your feet," Walker reminded her._

 _"True," she acknowledged, and her eyes fell on Picard. "What about you, Captain? Are you up for some fun?"_

 _For a brief moment he locked eyes with her and then smiled tightly looking away. She continued to gaze at him as Jack spoke up. "Jean-Luc doesn't have fun. And he doesn't dance either," Jack added, clapping Picard solidly on the shoulder._

 _"Says who?" Beverly demanded, putting her hands on her hips. "Captain?" she held out her hand beckoning to him._

 _He glanced at Jack, who was ordering a drink and wasn't paying attention to them. He nodded and stood up. "Why not?" he said with a slight smile as he took her offered hand. Walker shot him a warning look, but he shrugged it off._

 _"Are you always this stoic?" Beverly asked, once they were out on the floor. The song was a slow one, and she moved closer to him somewhat hesitantly._

 _He looked over her shoulder with a studied, neutral expression. "I don't know what you mean," he said, trying to appear less stiff. He knew it wasn't working. His stomach was tied up in knots._

 _"Okay…" said Beverly, not sure how to respond to that. So she changed the subject. "I have to say I am surprised that you're not here with a date, Captain."_

 _"Why is that?" he said, sounding inattentive, but he was really trying to not focus too much on her closeness._

 _She looked at him with a strange expression. "You're handsome, and available…."_

 _He nearly stepped on her foot. "You think I am handsome?"_

 _"Rumor has it that you have a big ego, Captain," she said softly. "But you actually sound surprised to hear me say that."_

 _He fell silent, not knowing what to say. Mercifully, the song had stopped, and he pulled away from her. "Well, thank you for the dance, Beverly," he said._

 _"The pleasure was mine," she said, and let go of his hand. He could still feel the touch of her hand as he backed away_.

* * *

 _"Open your eyes, Picard,"_ the voice encouraged him. He opened his eyes and saw that his surroundings were bathed in red. He took in a deep breath, and blew out liquid. He was drowning, he was drowning….he began to flail his arms and legs, trying to swim to the surface, but he was trapped inside some kind of bubble. He screamed, but the sound was muted by the surrounding fluid and cramped space. With his left arm, he banged on the hatch, but could see very little of the outside.

He jerked his right arm, feeling it was caught on something. He pulled and pulled, and his arm came free, but as he brought his arm in front of his face, he saw that his hand was missing, replaced by a grotesque mechanical device. Cut off….He screamed again, this time in a confused rage. He had no idea where he was. A jolting power surged through his chest, and his body moved in waves as though a giant heart was beating, and he was connected to it.

 _"You've got to break the connection, Picard."_ He looked down at his chest, and saw with horror that a snake-like pipeline was connected to his chest. A dull pain throbbed in his chest. He batted at it with his left hand and finally gripped it and pulled. It made no difference. He felt very weak. _"Calm your mind and then concentrate to use your power,"_ Q ordered him.

He stopped twisting his body. He ignored his amputated hand, and closed his eyes. He knew that voice. It was Q, who had come to help him. He gripped the metal pipeline and closed his eyes. He felt the warmth surge through him and through closed eyelids the surrounding area within the tank grew bright. He felt the snake twist its grip on his heart, and then let go as the hatch to the tank blew and he was thrust up and out onto the cold metal floor.

He slipped and slid his way to his feet, breathing in and then repeatedly throwing up the pink liquid. He heard a whine and then the shift of heavy boots as a drone began walking toward him. He straightened and breathed real air for the first time since they had shoved him into a container. The drone stomped toward him, and raising his eyes, Picard thrust his arms out toward it furiously, and a white light emanated from the fingers of his left hand. The Borg was thrown through into the wall, before sliding to the floor deactivated. At the same time, Picard turned and gestured a sweeping circular motion with his left arm and the remaining Borg drones disappeared in flashes of light. Breathing heavily, he looked and saw the chamber he had been enslaved in and then looked around the immense room. He slowly began to walk around the edge of the object he had been attached to; it must have been some kind of generator. As he walked, he saw many more chambers. With another upward gesture, the hatches began to blow off explosively and the faster he walked the quicker the hatches came loose.

Climbing into an open hatch he found a blue creature, missing a hand or foot, and plugged into the wall just as he had been. A memory flashed to him of a vat of floating blue tentacles and he knew this creature had been made to suffer just as he had been. He unplugged it from the chamber and it screamed and writhed in terror as he pulled it out. "Go back to your home," he said, and it flashed away.

With a sudden fury, he severed the connections in all of the chambers with one thought and the lights and power in the immense room were suddenly extinguished. "Go home!" He shouted, and hundreds of flashes of light confirmed that he had sent them all home.

Blinded by rage, his thoughts now turned to revenge. Just then, Q's distinctive white light suddenly floated before him. "Before you go too far, come with me, Picard." Slowly he was lifted into the air and carried upward.

Picard looked down into the room as he ascended upward with Q. And for the first time, he could see that an immense circular metal shape, like a disc covered the floor. Hundreds of chambers like the one he had been floating in lined the edge of the circle. He was sure, that as the image burned into his mind, he would never ever forget it.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

* * *

"Beverly, what is his status?" asked Jack, staring up at Picard. Data and Walker stood next to him. "We're due to arrive at the Borg home world in two hours. We need him awake as soon as possible."

"I know, Captain, but we can't interfere with what they're doing to him."

"And what exactly _are_ they doing to him?" demanded Walker.

Beverly sighed and knocked her tricorder against her thigh. "I don't know, Walker. Guinan told me that the Q are retrieving his memories. But we still don't know why."

Jack looked puzzled. "Guinan? The bartender?"

At that moment, the white light disappeared and Picard fell to the floor in a heap. Suddenly he began to flail his arms and legs wildly. "Q! Q!"

"Q isn't here, Jean-Luc." Beverly tried to move in, but Jack held her back.

"Data," Jack nodded to his First Officer, and Data knelt down to try and restrain Picard. He stopped struggling briefly only to look into Data's face with an expression of alarm.

"No, no, no!" He reached out and gripped Data by the neck. "I don't need a doctor, I don't need a doctor, leave me alone!" He squeezed Data's neck ferociously.

"Data, just let him go," Jack said, still holding onto Beverly. "Give him some room. Let him figure out where he is."

Data extracted himself from Picard's grip and stepped back, straightening out. Picard sat up and scrambled backward, stopping only when his back hit the wall. He looked around the room wildly. Breathing as though he had just run for miles, he slowly brought his right hand in front of his face, and stared at it, gripping his wrist. He touched his chest, massaging over his heart, muttering and whispering to himself. His gaze remained unfocused.

Troi walked forward. "Let me try. I think can be reached, but he is very disoriented."

"Go ahead," said Jack. "But be careful and keep your distance."

Deanna crouched down in his line of sight. "Jean-Luc, you are on board the Enterprise. The Q subjected you to a memory retrieval experience, but it's over now. You are safe with your family and friends."

"The Doctor…" he murmured.

"I'm right here, Jean-Luc," Beverly cried out, breaking free from Jack's grip.

"Beverly, wait," said Troi. "He is not talking about you. He is very frightened of someone called the 'Doctor'. Terrified, in fact. I think it explains his extreme reaction to Data. He believes Data intends to operate on him. He just needs some time to remember where he is."

Beverly nodded in agreement, then brought her hands up to her face and shut her eyes tightly.

"We don't have any more goddamn time to spare," Jack mumbled to himself. He turned as the door hissed open and Guinan walked in.

"Captain," she said soberly, walking by Jack.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped. "Guinan, this is serious business…."

She turned and looked at him. "I know Captain. I thought I might offer my services," she said. "I went through something similar a long time ago, and I think I can help."

Walker thumped Jack on the arm. "Jack…can you do any better?"

Jack's expression changed and he moved out of Guinan's way and gestured toward Picard. "Be my guest."

Picard squinted, staring at the new intruder into his space. He clutched at his heart desperately. "Don't touch me," he whispered.

"I _am_ going to touch you," Guinan said, rather commandingly as she approached him slowly. "But I'm not one of them, I promise."

"I won't let you cut into my heart again," he shouted. "I'll kill you this time."

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said.

He clutched at his heart, watching Guinan suspiciously with wide eyes as she approached. Slowly she reached out her palm and placed it gently on his forehead. His eyes fluttered and then closed and gradually his breathing became less labored. She began to talk very softly to him, and eventually his eyes opened again, and he took a deep breath through his nose. As he exhaled, Guinan removed her hand and stepped back. His gaze seemed clearer now.

He slowly got to his feet, looking around him. He leaned against the wall. "I'm on the _Enterprise_ ," he said as though still trying to convince himself of that fact. He looked down at his feet, speaking silently to know one in particular. "Are we at the Borg home world yet?" He looked up at Jack then.

Jack sighed and laughed, relieved that his friend was back. "Almost there, Jean-Luc. How do you feel?"

"Tired," said Picard. "We need to discuss our plan to retrieve the children," he said dispassionately.

"Do you know what we need to do?" Walker looked at his old friend questioningly.

"Yes," said Picard. "I remember everything now," he said flatly. "Are we going to meet now?"

"Soon, Jean-Luc," said Jack. "Why don't you rest for a bit and then we'll meet on the bridge in about 45 minutes?"

Picard nodded and looked down as Jack, Data and Walker left.

* * *

Deanna looked at Beverly, glancing at Guinan and mouthed silently "do you want us to stay?" Beverly smiled and nodded.

"Jean-Luc," she said, walking toward him. "Can I get you some water or something to eat? Would you like to take a shower?"

He shook his head, 'no'. "I need to talk to Q. I need to know why he left me there alone."

"Left you where?" Guinan asked.

He shook his head as if trying to clear it from a daze. "With the Borg."

"When, Jean-Luc?" Beverly stood with her hands clasped together, unsure of whether she should go to him or stay where she was.

"About eight years ago," he said, not looking at her. "Shortly after I began to learn to use my powers. I need something to draw with," he said, sounding distracted.

Troi handed him a data pad with a stylus, which he took without a word and sitting down on the floor he began to sketch a series of diagrams quickly. "Where is Q? I need to talk to him," he asked no one in particular.

Beverly stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed beneath her hand, but he said nothing. "Jean-Luc, I'm sorry, but your friend is gone."

"He'll be back. He always comes back," said Picard. "And when he does, I'm going to get some answers," he said continuing to draw what appeared to be a circular object. Changing to a new screen he began to draw what appeared to be intersecting corridors.

She touched his face. "No, Jean-Luc. He died. Yar killed him, and I saw it with my own eyes. I'm so sorry."

"That is just ridiculous," Picard scoffed. "Q is immortal Beverly, he can't die."

"Jean-Luc, you've been through so much in just a matter of hours… so if you don't believe me right now—"

"I _don't_ believe you!" he shouted at her, standing up and throwing down the data pad. She jerked her hand away from him and stepped back involuntarily. "I don't…." he repeated in a quieter voice and then trailed off.

"Don't shout at me, Jean-Luc," she said with quiet warning. "I know what I saw." Deanna moved to put an arm around Beverly's waist protectively.

Guinan stepped forward and put a hand on Picard's chest firmly. "Now… I know you already regret what you just did," she scolded him softly. He glared at her, but gradually his expression softened.

"I apologize, Beverly," he said quietly, looking at her directly for the first time. "I had no right to yell at you. Please forgive me." He looked away then.

She studied his face and seeing that it was full of pain, her heart broke for him. "What happened to you? What did they do to you all those years ago?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "I can't speak of it," he refused. "I won't…."

* * *

After Guinan and Troi left, Picard decided he would take a shower and left Beverly alone in the living room. She picked up the data pad he had thrown, and studied it. These must have been images from his time with the Borg. She shuddered to think what must have happened to him. And he hadn't even been able to remember until now, which meant it probably felt to him as though it had only just happened.

And now, she guessed he was expected to use these traumatic memories in order to lead an away team back to the very place that he had just been in his mind. What had the Borg done to him? She moved to a new screen and saw an eerie picture of a large spider-like shape. Unable to look at the image for long, she put the data pad down and took a deep breath. He had been in the shower for longer than normal. He wasn't the type to linger, and given the circumstances, she decided to go and check on him.

"Jean-Luc?" she stepped hesitantly into the bathroom door to find that the shower was running, but he was standing fully clothed in front of the mirror. With his index finger he was slowly re-creating the same circular shape he had drawn earlier into the data pad on the steam covered mirror. He turned and looked at her when she walked in, and he straightened, looking startled and slightly ashamed.

"It's alright," she said softly. "I was just coming to check on you," she said stepping all the way into the bathroom. "I'm worried about you."

He put a hand on the sink and turned to look at her. "There is nothing to be concerned about," he said tightly.

"Oh really?" she smiled and approached him. "Aside from being trapped in the delta Quadrant…headed for the Borg home planet…."

He shook his head frowning. "No, no…I meant you needn't be worried about _me_ ," he clarified.

"Oh, I see," she said, and wrapped her arms around him carefully, still unsure of his mood. The idea that she would not worry about him was completely absurd, but she wasn't even going to try and argue with him. She turned her face and rested it against his shoulder. "Are you still going to take a shower?" she asked. "You're due to meet with Jack in about 15 minutes."

He glanced at the shower. He didn't want to go inside an enclosed space alone, but he also didn't know how to say that to her. So perhaps he could convince her to go in with him. The closeness of her body to his own made him remember that they might not have much time left together. So much about their future was undecided.

He took off his shirt and threw it on the floor. She ran her hands over his chest and kissed him lightly on the chin and then more firmly on his mouth. He hugged her tightly to him and then pulling away they looked into each other's eyes and began to undress each other with a renewed urgency. Unwilling to move too far away from him, she took his hand and led him into the shower.

* * *

Geordi suddenly rapped his knuckles on the workstation and stood up. "So…what if we find a signature that _looks_ like it could be a conduit and then we send out a probe which contains a tiny ball of tachyon particles," he said excitedly.

"And the probe would trigger a conduit to open—if one is there of course," said Wesley, sharing his friend's exuberance. He thought for a moment. "We have a ready source of tachyons, too," he said. "The cloaking device we're using is emitting them as a by-product."

"That is correct, Wesley" said Data. "However…we would need to send multiple probes in order for this plan to be effective. The probes would not have the benefit of a cloaking device, and would be detectable."

"How much longer will we be cloaked?" Wesley asked.

"We have less than one hour before the cloaking device fails, Wesley," said Data.

"So we'll need to hurry up with gathering the tachyon particles then," said Wesley.

Geordi nodded. "And by then we'll be at the Borg planet, so we won't have the benefit of the cloak either. The issue of the probes being visible to the Borg will be moot at that point. I say we modify ten probes for deployment."

"Photon torpedo casings can be modified to serve the purpose we need," said Data. "Geordi? We have a meeting on the bridge. Mr. Picard is expected to brief us."

Geordi nodded and slapped Wesley lightly on the shoulder as he and Data exited. The Captain was going to be there? Without another thought, Wesley jumped up and followed them.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

* * *

"I was beginning to consider sending out a search party," Jack quipped as Jean-Luc and Beverly walked into the main conference room. As he looked at them both, it didn't take a genius to figure out what they had been doing a few minutes earlier. They made no apologies for being late. They sat down across from each other, and the furtive glances Beverly was sending Jean-Luc made Jack's blood pressure begin to rise.

"Well, Jean-Luc, it appears you're feeling better," said Jack, as Picard sat down a few seats away from him next to Riker.

"Jack, I feel just wonderful, thank you for mentioning it," said Picard with a studied poker face. Jack glared at him and then turned to his staff.

"So, let's get started without further delay. Our estimated time or arrival at the Borg planet is one hour. Geordi, Data and Wesley came up with a plan to send out ten tachyon-filled probes to suspected locations for conduits. If any of the probes are successful in triggering a conduit, it's very simple; we have a way home."

Picard nodded, rather impressed. "So, where are you going to get the tachyon particles?" he asked.

"The cloaking device is trailing particles along behind us. We are gathering them as we speak," said Geordi.

"And construction of the probes?" asked Riker. "Will it be finished by the time we arrive at the planet?"

"Yes, sir, it should be," Geordi nodded. "My team is working on it right now."

"Excellent," said Riker appreciatively. "As soon as we locate a trans warp conduit, we can start our return to Earth."

"Meaning… if we find a conduit before we find the children…" Deanna trailed off, knowing the answer to her question already.

"You can't be serious," said Picard looking at Jack and Riker. "We came all this way to retrieve the Marca II children. We aren't leaving before we have them." He locked eyes with Beverly across the table and she nodded at him with a small smile.

Jack clasped his hands together and pounded them on the table slowly for emphasis. "No one says we're going to abandon our plan or the children, Jean-Luc. But we have to be realistic. If we lose the opportunity to get home, we'll be destroyed before we even have another chance."

"I know we came here for the children, and we have to try to locate them," said Riker. "But let's not forget that the Earth is in jeopardy. Our home is under attack," said Riker.

"All the more reason to rescue the children as soon as we can then," said Picard standing up. "Once we reach the Borg planet, we'll need to get quickly into the main base."

"Can we beam down?" Riker asked.

"Yes," said Picard. "There are virtually no defenses around the base. The Borg have no enemies in this sector, because they have assimilated nearly every race around them. So as strange as it may sound to us, we should encounter very little resistance…at first."

Jack nodded. "And then?"

"Once inside the base we can expect that the Borg will try and stop us only where they perceive us as a threat. The _Enterprise_ and _Batleh_ might actually be at greater risk than the away team. Once they recognize two alien ships in orbit, they will be alarmed. The good news again, is that any orbital defense will have to come from Borg ships called back to defend, possibly buying both of our ships some time."

Walker leaned forward gravely. "Jean-Luc…what about the children? How do we find them?"

Picard placed a data pad on the table, and touched a feature, and a projection appeared above the table. "Now, it probably looks very crude to you," he said, folding his arms over his chest. "It has been a few years since I had an art lesson…but this," he said pointing at a disc-like object, "is the main generator for the construction sub-base."

"And the children are there?" Beverly asked.

He nodded grimly. "Yes, if I am correct, the Borg have brought the children back to the home planet both to allow them to mature, and to help power these systems. Until Yar became involved in their development, the Borg really had no use for humans. I was the…I was one of only one hundred and thirty-one human beings that the Borg had encountered."

The people around the table fell completely silent and their faces bore expressions of shock, which Picard tried to ignore as he continued. "I…recently learned that I was taken by the Borg eight years ago. Apparently my memory was later wiped clean by the Q, and certain…transgressions they committed against me were also erased from me physically," he said, suddenly tucking his right wrist behind his back.

"And so at this particular facility the Borg have little use for human beings. They consider human beings physically weak but mentally very difficult to assimilate fully. Likewise, a human child would be of little use on board a Borg ship, because they are considered immature and would need to be placed in a maturation chamber. But the Borg believe in making use of the resources they have," he continued. "If the children are on the planet, which I believe they are based on the information provided by Worf's Borg prisoner, the Borg _will_ use them. And based on the information I now have from my prior… experience with the Borg, I believe that the children are inside this generator. Otherwise I highly doubt the Q would have attempted to retrieve this particular memory."

" _Inside_ it?" Deanna whispered in horror.

Picard nodded, trying to remain as matter-of fact as possible about the situation. "Yes, the children, along with other beings are likely being used to power the generator. I am nearly certain of this."

Jack shook his head in disbelief as Picard continued speaking. "You see everything the Borg build is a mixture of both organic and mechanical features. They see the incorporation of organic material into mechanical as an improvement."

"They are completely barbaric," said Beverly.

"To the Borg we are the primitive ones; we are barbaric," said Picard.

"And you know how to shut this thing down?" Riker asked.

Picard nodded. "Well I hope that I do…you see, I used the power of the Q to escape the base all those years ago. I think that if we disconnect one child from the generator, we will cause something like a short and it will be easier to remove the rest of the children safely."

"But you don't actually know if we can get them out of the generator without killing them?" Jack said.

"No," Picard admitted. "I suggest sending a skilled surgeon as part of the away team. You may need to surgically extract the first child from the machine. The others will not be as difficult," he said.

"I'll go," said Beverly immediately.

Picard's eyes grew wide. "Oh no, I didn't mean to suggest…."

"You didn't have to, Jean-Luc. You said you need a skilled surgeon. And I am one," she said simply.

Picard sat back down heavily and stared at the table.

"Jean-Luc, you gave up your command… _I'll_ decide who stays and who goes, thank you very much," Jack snapped.

"Well _decide_ then, Captain," Riker said, sounding annoyed. "We've got very little time to work with, here."

 _Thank you for stating the obvious,_ Jack thought. "With the exception of Jean-Luc, who has to go…I'm going to ask for volunteers," said Jack. "And then I will eliminate who I think we don't need. And if we need more members, we'll add more." he added. "So who here is willing to travel down to the planet for this rescue mission?" He looked around the table.

Everyone had raised a hand. Jack sighed. _Of course._ "Geordi, you're needed here to take care of the tachyon probes. Without you we're not getting home. Data, I believe the team could use someone with your expertise in cybernetics, so you will accompany Jean-Luc." He looked around. "Beverly, you're right, you should go. But please bring one of your staff along to assist you. A lot can change in eight years, and we have no idea if the configuration of the generator is exactly as Jean-Luc remembers it." He looked at Troi, who lowered her hand when he smiled at her. "Counselor, we'll need your skills here to deal with crisis management should the ship come under attack. I know that Worf plans on going to find out the status of his own captured people, so that leaves Walker and Riker." He looked at them. "Are you sure you're healed enough to do this?" He said to Riker, who nodded.

"No, he's not," Deanna snapped, staring Riker down. He looked away from her.

"Deanna, I want to help out. And Jack doesn't need another Captain in the way. This is his ship." Deanna shook her head slowly and continued to glare at Will.

"I'm going too," said Walker. "Simply because I want to kick some ass," he said.

Jack could not help but laugh despite the somber mood in the room. "Alright, now that we've settled that. We have just a little while to prepare. Thank you, everyone, and good luck."

When they exited the conference room, Wesley was waiting. "I told him you were busy, but he refused to leave, sir," Diaz said from tactical, with a slight smile.

Jack looked from Wesley, who looked very jittery, to Picard who had just stepped out of the conference room. "It's alright Lieutenant," Jack said, and moved to sit down in the command center.

"Sir!" Wesley said, as Picard approached.

Picard hesitated. "Hello, Wesley," he said before continuing to walk towards the turbo lift. Wesley hurried to catch up with him.

"Sir, I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Picard glanced at him with a tight smile. "Thank you, son. I'm fine."

Wesley's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure? What happened? I thought the Q were going to take you again," he said.

Picard stopped and looked at Wesley. "No, they were simply helping me to recall some information I needed in order to help us on this mission."

"Sir, are you going down to bring back the kids? I want to come with you. I've studied all about the Borg technology. And Commander Worf taught me how to fight them."

"No!" said Picard, louder than he had intended.

Jack stood up from his chair and turned around to watch them. Beverly had been talking with Deanna, and she now approached.

Picard lowered his voice, seeing he was now under scrutiny. "Wesley, I know you want to help, but I can't allow you to be placed in danger. You're going to be in enough danger up here as it is. Please… Wesley stay here and help Geordi finish the tachyon project. Don't you see how important that is? Without it, we've no way back home to Earth."

Wesley looked away angrily. "Yes, sir," he said. He knew his father was right, but he didn't want to be left behind. He wanted to be useful. And a growing piece of him also wanted revenge for Anna's death.

He turned as his mother walked up behind him and put a hand on his back, guiding him to the turbo lift. Picard followed them inside. As the turbo lift doors shut, Jack watched as Beverly took Jean-Luc's hand in hers.

* * *

 **Unknown Planet, sometime after dawn…**

The puddle of sludge oozed over the gravel. _Why must I suffer so?_ It thought. _Why is this taking so long? I haven't even grown a tail or flippers,_ yet, thought Q. _Perhaps if I drop myself into that mud puddle over there I can speed the process along a bit. Evolution is not only painfully slow, but it is incredibly boring_ , Q complained to anyone who would listen.

He stopped his slow creep forward and listened to the silence all around him. Of course, no one and nothing heard him complain, because he hadn't evolved vocal chords yet. _I don't even have the satisfaction of making my thoughts heard. Oh what I wouldn't give to be needling Picard right now…._


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

* * *

 **Meanwhile in the Alpha Quadrant…**

Commander Tavek of the Vulcan Defense Fleet turned in her chair. "Estimated time until interception?" she asked quietly. Flanking her ship the _Preceptor_ , were six other cruisers awaiting her next orders.

"Three minutes, sir," reported the conn.

Almost as a last resort, Starfleet had ordered even its unfinished ships into service, which meant that the shipbuilding base at Mars Planitia had been mobilized. The Vulcan force commanded by Tavek had been ordered from Vulcan to defend the base, and to allow the new ships to disembark for Earth. But somehow, immediately after the order had been given, Borg ships were reportedly seen in the vicinity of Mars.

How had the Borg known? Had there been less time constraints it would have presented a fascinating intellectual puzzle for Tavek, but right here and now, it made the issue little more than a distraction.

"All ships prepare to fire photon torpedoes at will, upon arrival at the assigned coordinates," Tavek announced. "Once your torpedoes are away, initiate evasive maneuver Tavek sigma six. Do not await my command, as there will be no time to adjust," she ordered calmly.

As the Vulcan ships dropped out of warp, three Borg ships, as expected, loomed ahead of them. The Vulcan ships fired as ordered and then splintered off dispersing to a safer distance.

"Damage to the enemy is negligible," reported the tactical officer, as the _Preceptor_ banked away from the Borg ship to the left. As it pulled up and away the view screen showed floating refuse that could only be the hulls of destroyed ships; and judging by the volume of debris many souls had experienced their last minutes in a battle above Mars.

"Stay clear of their tractor beams," warned Tavek. "Move to intercept at the designated coordinates. They must not disturb the base. The ships must be allowed to deploy safely-"

The tactical officer interrupted her with studied calm. "We are too late, Commander Tavek. The base…it is gone."

Tavek walked forward slowly to study the screen in front of her. "Magnify," she said. As the view focused in on the planet, it was now clear that the base was gone. It had been scooped away along with a large chunk of the planet surface. No ships aside from the Borg and the Vulcan forces were left.

Tavek nodded, acknowledging the dead one last time before joining them. She turned with her hands draped loosely behind her back and walked back to her command chair. As she sat down she gave what might have been her last order. "All ships set course for the lead ship. Fire at will."

* * *

Riker leaned against the wall, and slowly banged the back of his head against it lightly. "Deanna, I can't believe you are criticizing me for volunteering for the away team. You volunteered too, and you're pregnant!"

Deanna Troi fixed her husband with a penetrating stare. "Yes, but I'm not actually going, am I? The most I will concede, Will, is that _neither_ one of us should be going down there."

"Fine, fine," he said. "We've been over this already, haven't we? Are you going to make me pull rank?"

"Beverly said you would resort to saying something like that," she remarked, folding her arms over her chest.

" _Beverly said_? Doesn't she know you're pregnant? She's a doctor! She should be on my side here."

"I never said she cleared me to go. She just doesn't want you to." He lowered his gaze. "Don't forget she repaired your legs, Will. Maybe she doesn't want to see them broken again."

"Look," he said pushing himself away from the wall. "I promise I will come back to you in one piece."

* * *

Picard watched Beverly pack her bag for the away team mission, and the more he watched her, the more he was worried. Not about the Borg, but about Yar. But he couldn't tell anyone his fears because they were much too great. He couldn't tell them that no matter what they did down on the Borg planet; no matter how successful they were in rescuing the Marca II children, Yar could easily thwart their plans. Beverly had explained to him what Yar had done to Q. There was no way for him to know whether Q was truly dead, but even if he wasn't Yar would not be deterred by anyone or anything now, not even a Q.

What if he had been conscious when she had killed Q? Would he have used his power to try and stop her? Maybe. But now, he knew that there was no possible way he could use his power to help the children, to get them home. He couldn't use it in any possible way, except to stop Yar. But how?

* * *

Wesley stood inside his mother's quarters, watching as she prepared a small bag for the away team. She took certain items out of her med kit and carefully placed them in her bag. She hesitated a few times as though she was unsure whether she wanted to bring that specific tool or not. His father sat nearby leaning over with his elbows on his knees staring silently at the floor. He seemed to be deep in thought.

"Did you know that Counselor Troi is pregnant?" Wesley blurted out suddenly.

Beverly looked up abruptly from what she was doing. She glanced at Picard, who was still staring at the floor, seemingly in his own world. "Yes…but how did you find out?"

"Oh, Captain Riker has been telling everyone. He seems super happy about it."

Beverly smiled and shook her head. "Well…I am sure that he is. But I'm not sure how well that will go over with Deanna."

"What?" said Wesley, frowning as he sat down at the table.

"Telling everyone on board, that's what," she said, closing the bag she had packed. "That should do it," she said to herself grimly.

"Mom, I know this is a weird time to bring this up," said Wesley, "but would you ever consider having another kid? I mean, I've always thought it would be nice to have a younger sister or brother."

Beverly stared at him. The timing of this kid…really. "Wes, I don't know. Maybe we could discuss this later…."

Wesley turned to Picard. "What about you, Sir? Would you ever want to have another kid?"

Picard looked up at him. "Huh?"

Beverly sighed. "Wesley, really…let's discuss this some other time."

"What if there is no other time, Mom? What if we don't make it through this?"

"We're going to make it through, Wes. We are," his mother repeated firmly. She walked over and kissed him on the top of his head.

"I don't think I can," said Picard quietly. Wesley and Beverly both looked at him then.

"What?" Beverly asked. She had lost track of the topic of conversation.

"I don't think I can have children," he said more clearly as though he had just realized this possibility.

"What do you mean, sir? I wasn't trying to—"

"Something the Borg did to me," he continued as though talking to himself. "A surgical procedure," he said slowly. Beverly stared at him in shock.

Wesley shifted in his chair now embarrassed. "Sir, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Wesley, this isn't something we are going to talk about," Beverly cut him off sharply.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Wesley said, getting up from the table. He had been anxious, and thinking about the future, which is why he had asked the question in the first place. And of course he regretted it, but now he felt himself getting angry. "So…can we talk about why you are both going down to the planet? I don't get it. Why do you both have to go?"

Beverly tried to touch Wesley's arm but he moved away from her. She dropped her hand and looked over at Picard, who had risen to his feet. "Wes, your father has to go because he has knowledge that makes him essential to the mission. We simply can't do it without him. And I…."

"And your mother has to go, Wesley, because the mission requires a surgeon and your mother is the best surgeon that we have," said Picard. Trying not to become emotional, Beverly took his hand with a smile.

Wesley nodded and ran a hand through his hair. He realized that it was shaking. "I just—I feel anxious about this whole thing. I don't want either of you to get hurt."

"Oh, of course you don't, Wesley," Beverly said, moving to embrace him. This time he didn't back away. After a moment he hugged her back. He looked at Picard over her shoulder.

"Wesley I can't promise you anything except that I will never allow your mother to be harmed. I do promise you that," Picard said, never breaking Wesley's gaze. Beverly let Wesley go, and they both wiped away tears as they separated.

"Wesley," said Picard gently. "I know this is difficult for you, but you have to try and focus on your work to get the _Enterprise_ home. Jack needs you here."

Wesley nodded slowly. Hugging them both goodbye, he left his mother's quarters. But instead of going directly to engineering, he stopped in the quarters he shared with his Dad, who was still up on the bridge. After a final moment of hesitation, he began to pack his own small bag. Just in case.

* * *

"Jean-Luc, I suddenly don't feel right at all about leaving Wesley here." They stood in her quarters with only a few minutes to spare before they were expected in the transporter room. She couldn't help but feel that Wesley was going to try and do something that he shouldn't. Some of the willful attributes he had inherited from both she and Jean-Luc had surfaced recently, particularly since the death of that poor girl.

Picard looked at her. "Of course you don't," he said. "There is still time for you to reconsider you know," he said, and part of him was hopeful that she might. But realistically he knew her, and he should have known better.

Beverly inhaled, picking up her small bag and put it over her shoulder adjusting the strap tightly. "I can't," she insisted, knowing he wished she would reconsider. "Besides, Felix agreed to go along with us, and I can't back out on him."

" _Felix_ is who you chose to bring along for your assistant? Beverly!"

Years of residing with the Q had left him with an unpredictable temper; something he hadn't had before. "Jean-Luc…calm down please. Felix and I work well together."

 _Of course he works well with you; who wouldn't want to work with you?_ he thought angrily. He glared at her, and then down at the floor, feeling incredibly and irrationally jealous at that moment. He knew that any words that came out of his mouth would not be helpful, so he adjusted his features accordingly and looked at her again. "Alright then…let's go," he said turning toward the door.

"Wait," she said with mock outrage as she grabbed his hand and tugged him back to her. "Do you think I am leaving here without a kiss?"

Who was he to argue with that?

* * *

"Why the anti-gravity boots?" said Riker, lifting one up, as he put his environmental suit on. His legs were still stiff and painful, but the more he used them, the less stiffness he experienced. He stretched his arms and looked around as the rest of the away team filed into the transporter room.

"From what I recall, the gravity is very low where we are headed," said Picard. "These will help us to maneuver and to move more quickly through the base," he explained, pulling on his boots quickly.

"And why the helmets?" asked Felix Farmer. Picard looked at him before slapping a helmet into Farmer's arms not too gently. The big man staggered back slightly, which gave Picard a small amount of joy. He could feel Beverly's eyes staring daggers into the back of his head, but he decided not to turn around.

"Because you never know what can happen," said Picard roughly. "The atmosphere outside the base is not suitable for humans—not in the least. Given their adaptable shielding technology, the Borg have no trouble surviving in a vacuum even for large periods of time, so the harsh planetary environment is not of concern to them. And while the air outside is potentially breathable for a short time, it is much too hot. Just beneath the surface of the planet is a layer of liquefied rock; or as we say on Earth, lava. Believe me, you shall need the suit."

"But we aren't going outside," said Walker, looking somewhat alarmed.

Picard smiled slightly. "As I said, Walker, anything can happen."

"Great, now that you've scared the shit out of us…or at least me," Walker muttered, lifting the helmet onto his head. Picard moved to help him adjust it, hearing a satisfying hiss as it sealed shut.

"At least these aren't too bulky," said Beverly. "The ones they have us train in are impossible to move in," she said, sounding muffled from inside her helmet.

A shot of fear went through Picard at this moment as it occurred to him for the first time that she could be killed. The memory of his promise to Wesley wrenched at his heart. Pushing it away, he walked quickly over to Felix who was fumbling with Beverly's helmet, trying to help her seal it. "Give me that," he snapped, snatching the helmet from Felix. "It has to be done _correctly_!" Beverly's eyes widened in alarm.

A pang of regret shot through Picard, as he glanced at Felix. "Here," he said evenly, handing the helmet back to him. "You snap it on like this," he said, carefully managing his tone now that he felt Beverly's eyes on him. Felix did as he was instructed and looked at Picard expectantly, quizzical yet slightly intimidated. "Then pull the locking mechanism down fast…yes, that's right," instructed Picard. "Now slide this bottom ring around counter-clockwise."

Picard smiled as Beverly's helmet hissed shut. She gazed at him with something akin to a relieved "thank you" in her eyes. He winked at her.

"Good," he said, smiling at Felix, and clapping an overly-friendly hand on the man's shoulder. "Now let me help you with yours, Doctor Farmer," he said.

"Um…okay." Felix hesitated looking at him with open suspicion. Crouching down he allowed Picard to place the helmet on his head and seal it.

* * *

Data was handing out weapons to each of the team members. "Each of these phasers has been calibrated to change frequency at random each time it is fired. Since the Borg defenses adapt to weapons fire, this is crucial if our weapons are to be at all effective. As Mr. Picard explained before, we are to avoid contact with the Borg as much as possible, and do not fire unless absolutely necessary. The Borg are likely to ignore us in most situations unless they perceive us to be a threat."

"And since we very much intend to be a threat to them, we can expect that we will encounter some danger," said Riker. "Technically I am the commanding officer here, but in most cases I will defer to Mr. Picard where the Borg are concerned. But I want to be clear…if Captain Crusher orders us back because a warp conduit has been located, I want you all to go back, no questions asked. The team rendezvous coordinates have been programmed into your tricorders, but if you get the call from Captain Crusher, don't wait to rendezvous with the rest of us. Just let the Enterprise know your location and beam back safely. I hope that I am understood?" He looked around him. "Alright then, here we go," he said and stepped up onto the transporter platform.


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

* * *

 **Somewhere up there…**

Yar floated her hand over the star map almost lazily. Turth be told without anyone to test her wits, to challenge her, she was bored. The tiny Q entities floated inside their transparent prison, helpless to do anything to stop her. Her former mentor, Q was dead, or at least as close to being dead as a Q could be. She thought of her former fellow humans on board the _Enterprise_ and smiled. She had lost the bet with Q about Picard; he hadn't relinquished his power to her as she had hoped; but then he also hadn't selfishly wasted his last power either. But did it matter? No, because she hadn't needed him after all. All she had needed was a chance for the power to recognize her again, and it had.

Now, as she sat and waved her fleet of Borg ships toward Earth, she considered the interesting fact that Picard still had one use of his power left. No doubt he would try and use it to stop her. How interesting. She had all but forgotten about him until this moment. Well, if he was going to try and stop her, she might as well make things interesting for him over in the Delta Quadrant.

If Picard was going to die, Yar felt it only fair that he should be thrown a challenge or two first. Didn't he deserve as much? After all, they would always have their shared Q experience in common. How would Picard use his power against her? Perhaps she would throw some difficult choices his way, just to keep it lively.

 **The Base**

* * *

When Walker Keel materialized, he was alarmed to find there was a Borg drone standing directly in front of him. He suppressed his instinct to reach for his phaser, and instead backed away slowly, keeping his eye on the Borg. Its expression remained unconcerned, and looking more closely he could see that it had once been an Andorian. A single remaining antenna waved in his direction and some machinery bleeped, but that was the extent of the creature's reaction.

From the opposite direction he saw another transporter beam appearing as Worf and his wife Krala materialized. They were wearing zero gravity boots but no space suits and no helmets. Apparently it was a Klingon thing, Walker thought. It seemed even Krala had received the memo about not shooting unless necessary, but she didn't appear happy about having to restrain herself as she glared at the Borg.

"Hey, watch it," Riker said as Walker absently backed into him.

"Sorry," said Walker.

"This way," Picard said without looking up from his tricorder. "Follow me," he said, folding up the tricorder and beginning to walk down a dark hallway. At various points down the corridor they saw alcoves with Borg drones standing motionless looking outward, or facing in toward the corrugated wall. Data stopped to scan one quickly with his tricorder.

"Data?" Riker questioned, stepping alongside the android.

"The Borg in this area appear to be in a temporary state of hibernation. They are resting until they are again needed."

"That is correct," said Picard. "These are construction drones, and they should be more concerned with recuperation than they are with us," he said.

"Let's hope so," Beverly muttered. She was trying not to let the stomping of her own boots and those of her crew members drive her crazy. Despite the assurances that the Borg were not likely to do them violence, she couldn't forget that this is where Jean-Luc had been abducted and she now guessed, tortured. He hadn't revealed anything specific to her but the highly disturbing fact that he had been forcibly sterilized by the Borg. She remembered his desperate pleas to Guinan while clutching at his heart, and considered she did not need the details, unless it helped him to tell her. She hoped that whatever they had done to him both physically and emotionally was reversible.

Of course she could easily test him in sick bay once all of this was over—if he would let her, but she wondered whether the Q had healed him all those years ago. As he had explained, he hadn't had sex for eleven years, and so he hadn't needed to know. And she hadn't thought about having another child for years. She and Jack had both been using contraceptive implants for so long that the idea of getting pregnant had not crossed her mind seriously—until now. But even now, she had no idea what to think or feel about it, and had no idea what Jean-Luc's ideas were on the subject. As she looked through her helmet at him she knew they both had too much else weighing on their minds to think of the future.

Beverly looked down as her tricorder began to buzz. She had all of the away team members' heart rates monitored in her tricorder, and Picard's suddenly began to increase.

She looked over at him in alarm. "Damn," he said nearly a whisper. "This isn't right," he said.

* * *

 **Starfleet Command, Earth**

"Vice Admiral, we are receiving a message from the Borg."

Nechayev turned away from a conversation she was having to regard her aide with a severe look. They stood in the strategic command center at Starfleet Headquarters as officers of all ranks bustled around them.

"On screen," she ordered tersely, and there was a respectful hush in the room as all eyes turned to the immense view screen.

The dark interior of a ship blinked on to the screen. There was no commanding officer she could face, just a uniform, bleak interior. But then a voice, or rather voices began speaking together.

 _"Resistance is futile. Your race is inferior and will benefit from improvement."_

Nechayev put her hands on her hips. "Bullshit. What are your terms?" she demanded.

 _"_ _Human Admiral…your fleet has been severely depleted. Your planet is now under our control. We require your complete and unconditional surrender and assimilation_."

"It's not going to happen," snapped the Admiral. "But just for the hell of it, what is the alternative?"

" _The only alternative to assimilation is destruction,_ " said collective voices of the Borg.

"I suppose we'll find out soon enough whether that is true, won't we _?"_ She motioned for the connection to be cut. She stepped away and down onto the main floor of the command area. She activated an amplification device on her communicator.

"Listen everyone. I want your complete and undivided attention. We must not delude ourselves any longer. The Borg are coming, and that means they are coming to try and destroy the Earth and everything on it. From this moment on, everything you do must be aimed at preventing that from happening. I want the focus from now on to be on building up the defense perimeter around Earth."

"Riker," snapped Picard, taking him aside. "We've got a group of Borg headed toward us, and they are heavily armed and moving at a fast clip. This is not good," he said.

"No it's not," agreed Riker. "What do you suggest?"

Picard glanced around at the others, and then gripped Riker's arm. "There is a side corridor off to the left here. The Borg are now headed toward us through this main corridor. If we split up and one group takes the side hall, we should be able to take that route all the way down to the generator room. Unfortunately, the other group will have to stay and face the Borg, who by the looks of it might be aggressive." He shook his head. Something was very wrong here. Why had the Borg been alarmed already? Was it because the _Enterprise_ and _Batleh_ now hung uncloaked in orbit? Or was it something else that drove the Borg? It had to be her interference, he recognized now. She had overcome the Q, but the game as she viewed it, was just beginning for her.

"You should take a group through the side, Jean-Luc," said Walker moving toward him. "That will get you closer to the generator room, which is where we hope the children are."

Picard nodded and pointed at the screen, now addressing the others. "According to this map, the side corridor will eventually make a loop, and intersect with the main corridor we are now in. When we reach the juncture we'll have a chance to come around the back of the Borg and ambush them. When we reach it, I will call Captain Riker. If you are pinned down, let us know, Riker and we will assist. Otherwise you are on your own and we will press forward and down to the generator room and you can join us when you're able."

"Understood," said Riker. Somehow he resisted the growing urge to refer to Picard as "sir". He didn't quite know why Picard still seemed not only like an officer to him, but a superior, and it was a very real feeling for Riker. But he found that instead of feeling competitive with Picard, as he was with Jack Crusher, it felt natural to follow Picard's lead.

"So some of us are to stay here and fight the Borg as they come this way?" Worf frowned at Picard, but it was obvious he liked the idea. "I will stay here and fight, as I prefer not to sneak through adjacent hallways."

"Then Felix and I are going with you as well," said Beverly. "You'll need us to free the children."

Krala stepped forward. "You require protection. I will accompany you as well," she growled, hefting a huge weapon onto her shoulder.

Picard nodded, somewhat surprised. "Alright then, that settles that," he said.

Riker looked at Data, Worf and Walker. "I suppose that leaves us here. If we can provide a diversion, we will," he said turning to Picard.

* * *

"Picard, you were not truthful about the small size of this corridor," Krala complained, brushing a cobweb out of her eyes. Perhaps, thought Picard, she might regret not having worn a helmet before this was all over. She had insisted on leading the way through the utility hallway, and unfortunately for all of them, she was too large to fit comfortably. While she was actually not that much larger than Felix, she had a giant gun that she had been toting, and periodically it would scrape against the walls of the narrow corridor with a loud clang.

"I didn't actually lie," said Picard, who was bringing up the rear, with Felix just ahead of him. "Because I didn't say anything about it. Maybe if you didn't lug that cannon with you everywhere we would all have more room."

"You will soon be grateful for this 'cannon'; wait and see," said Krala over her shoulder.

The temperature inside their space suits had become stifling. Beverly's hair stuck to her face disgustingly inside her helmet and the glass of her faceplate began to fog annoyingly. She wanted to ask Jean-Luc how much further until they reached the generator room, but she didn't want to distract him from studying the layout of the base.

She walked behind Krala, who besides being perpetually grumpy seemed to prefer the heat. Nevertheless, the Klingon woman continued to complain. "I do not like Picard's decision to sneak around behind Borg backs," she said. "I prefer to face my enemy directly before I crush the life out of them."

 _What a surprise_ , thought Beverly. "Well," Beverly responded, "We're not here to fight the Borg, we're here to rescue our people, and get out."

"Speak for yourself," grunted Krala. "I am here to kill as many Borg as possible, in retribution for what they have done to _my_ people."

"Oh? Well, please warn me before you do, so that I can get the hell out of the way," said Beverly.

"Of course I will warn you," said Krala, sounding outraged. "I have very accurate aim," she insisted to Beverly after a moment, now sounding as though her feelings were hurt.

Beverly rolled her eyes inside her foggy mask. "I'm sure you do," she said as soothingly as possible.

* * *

Geordi glanced at Wesley curiously for the third time. "Why are you wearing that satchel over your shoulder, Wes?" he stood at a control panel, and quickly checked the status of the tachyon probes they had deployed about twenty minutes before. "Probes are on course as planned," he said, turning back to Wesley with a questioning expression.

Wesley shrugged. "Geordi, you never know what's going to happen lately. You have to be prepared, right?" he said vaguely.

Geordi raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly. "Um, okay…preparation is good," he admitted slowly. _But preparation for what?_ He wondered, watching his young friend with concern. Of course his Visor allowed him to see exactly what was in the bag: a tricorder, a bottle of water and a strange looking double-handled metal tool which appeared to be designed for gripping.

"Wes…I heard about Anna, and I'm so sorry, kid. I wish that I could do something to help you out—make you feel better."

Wesley sat down at the main Engineering work station and adjusted the bag slightly, but left it hanging loosely over his shoulder. "I appreciate your concern, Geordi, but I just don't want to talk about it. At least not right now."

Geordi sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Okay. But do you want to tell me what the bag is for?"

Wes's expression darkened and he shook his head. "No…I don't."

Geordi exhaled loudly, as he walked back to the control panel. "Suit yourself Wes…just don't go and do anything stupid, okay? I need your help here."

"Have you ever known me to do anything stupid?" Wesley said defensively.

Geordi looked at him with a serious expression. "No, Wes. But with everything that has happened recently, I wouldn't blame you if you did. I'm just looking out for you, that's all."

Wesley smiled slightly. "I know…thanks."

* * *

"Sir," said Data, standing protectively next to Riker. "I recommend that we take cover. The Borg are approaching." The sound of many footsteps grew louder coming toward them. Picard and the others had left minutes ago, and Riker expected a few more minutes would need to pass before Picard called him. Glancing back where they had just walked from he could see some cargo crates along the walls along with a few empty Borg alcoves. The Borg in the alcoves remained motionless, and for all purposes, asleep.

Riker motioned for them to get behind cover and ducked into an empty alcove himself. Leaning his head out cautiously he could see the marching Borg come around the bend. His jaw dropped when he got a good look at the first few. He looked over at Worf, who bore a disgusted expression upon viewing the enemy. The incoming Borg were very fierce looking, were well-armed, and even more disturbingly, were Klingon, or at least formerly so.

Worf swore in Klingon. He had not anticipated this. He had hoped, truly that the Klingon captives taken by the Borg had fought to the death. He had hoped that they had not been assimilated. But his hopes had been foolish. They even carried modified Klingon weapons—a travesty. Now there was only one thing to do.

He raised his disruptor pistol, just as a green energy beam sizzled over his head. They were firing on him! These were not Klingons, he told himself. They were now no different than any other Borg. He gritted his teeth and fired back.

* * *

Picard's breath came quickly inside his helmet. His tricorder beeped at him. "We're almost to the juncture," he said. "Riker will be calling." His mind and pulse raced in unison, and he wondered if the rest of the away team was in danger. He felt responsible for them. He had been wrong about the Borg; they had been aggressive, and he had not expected that. He had not expected Yar's touch, but he would not make that mistake again.

Just then his comlink beeped. " _Riker to Picard."_

"Picard here."

They could hear weapons firing in the background. _"Picard we're taking fire from the Borg. And it gets worse,"_ Riker added raising his voice. _"The Borg attacking us are assimilated Klingons."_

Picard looked at Krala, who nearly exploded with fury. "Impossible! Klingons will bend to the will of _no_ race!" she screamed, slamming her gun into the wall, sending a reverberating clang through the hallway and the soles of their boots.

Picard moved quickly around Felix and Beverly and grabbed Krala by an armored shoulder. "Shut up!" he hissed fiercely. "Are you trying to make the situation worse by giving away our position?" She pushed his fist away from her shoulder roughly, and glared at him, but remained quiet.

" _I hate to break it to you, Picard,"_ Riker's voice broke in again. _"But about half of the Klingon Borg soldiers are already headed back your way. Data believes they intend to cut you off in the generator room."_

"How the hell do they know where we're headed?" Felix asked.

Picard reached out and leaned his elbow against the wall. _Yar._ "Damn her," he whispered.


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

* * *

"It's for the best," he thought. "Or at least, it's what she wants." Jack examined the screen on the data pad. The official government seal made it seem all the more impersonal. Was this really the end after so many years? He would sign it, but maybe she would not. Maybe, just maybe she would still change her mind and come back to him. If she didn't come back to him, he realized that he no longer wanted the life and career that he had made aboard the Enterprise.

If she could start over anew, then so could he. Taking a breath, he placed his thumb into the designated box, and closing his eyes he pressed down. The pad bleeped and turned green, indicating it had received his signature. There, he had signed for the divorce. Now it was her move. He put the data pad on her personal desk and stepped back as his communicator beeped.

* * *

It was Lt. Diaz. _"Captain we have an incoming Borg ship!"_

"Shields up! Go to red alert," he shouted, as he ran out of Beverly's quarters.

"Status," said Jack, striding on to the bridge.

"It appears to be of Borg design sir, but…"

Jack's eyes fixed on the screen. "…but it's not a cube," he said, taking in the image. The ship was much larger than the _Enterprise_ and _Batleh_ combined, but it was far smaller than the typical Borg cube they had become used to. And strangely it was spherical in shape.

"There was a temporal disturbance sir, and then it was just here," said Diaz.

"What kind of temporal disturbance? Like a trans warp conduit?"

"Not clear, sir. All we can tell is that is now gone, and the Borg ship is approaching."

"Hail the Klingons. Let's make sure they are on the same page. We don't need any unnecessary violence. God knows we've already had enough of that already."

"The Klingon second in command, Krem reports he is under orders not to engage the Borg unless we do, sir."

Jack nodded. "So do we engage them, is the question?" He continued to stare at the screen. "No, we're going to wait and see," said Jack slowly. "Keep shields at full."

"Sir, sensors show the Borg ship has a very advanced hull coating of ablative armor, sir."

"It's designed to adapt depending on the strength of the energy-based weaponry it's hit with," Jack said quietly, still gazing at the oddly mesmerizing sphere. "Hail Acting Commander Krem and tell him we'll wait until the first sign of aggression and then we'll have to hit them with photon torpedoes. Our phasers and their disruptors may be useless at least until we've crippled them with torpedoes."

"Aye sir. Krem is signaling his agreement with the plan."

"Captain, the Borg ship is scanning us," said the officer at ops. He quickly input data into his control panel. "It's a low level scan, sir. It doesn't appear to have caused any damage to the ships systems, sir."

"And yet it was able to penetrate our shields with no difficulty," Jack said.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Now what? It's Yar isn't it? She's trying to stop us, Jean-Luc," Beverly said with a growing look of fear and anger in her eyes.

Picard put up his hands, trying to keep himself and her as calm as possible.

Felix too, he could tell, was becoming slightly agitated. "I've got to take this helmet off," the man said, starting to breathe erratically. "If she can breathe, so can I," Felix said gesturing at Krala.

Picard took a deep breath and kept his tone even. "Fine…let's all take off our helmets. It is hot as blazes in here anyway." He took off his own helmet and wiped his sweaty brow. He studied Felix's face for signs that the man was cracking up. The last thing they needed was the mission to be sabotaged by the anxieties of one of its members.

Thankfully, Felix seemed to calm down once he had taken his helmet off and could wipe the perspiration out of his eyes.

Krala suddenly walked over to Felix and stood toe to toe with him. "Who picked you for this mission?" she demanded. "You are too weak-minded to fight the Borg!"

Felix faced her down. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"He's not here to fight, damn it," Beverly interjected. "Felix is a doctor, like me…and again, we are not here to kill Borg."

Krala stomped her foot. "And I told _you_ …"

"Enough! Everyone needs to calm down," said Picard. "We need to carry through with finding and releasing the children. Now, it does not matter whether Yar is trying to stop us or not. We've got to keep going."

* * *

"We've got something," Wesley exclaimed, turning to LaForge with delight.

Geordi peered over his shoulder. "You're right Wes…a conduit is now open and just sitting there, just about a parsec away from our location." He hit his communicator. "Captain, we have some very good news. One of our probes has identified a conduit and it appears the tachyon particles may have triggered it to open."

On the bridge, Jack Crusher clapped his hands together. "Excellent!" He turned to Diaz at tactical. "Lieutenant, signal the away team and let them know we are getting out of here. They are to beam out of the Borg base immediately."

"Aye sir," she said, and then frowned. "Sir, the Borg ship is powering up its weapons systems. The Borg ship is firing on the _Batleh_. The _Batleh_ is not returning fire, Captain."

"Move to intercept," ordered Jack, watching the scene unfold on the view screen. "Fire photon torpedoes!"

"Trying sir…Captain, our weapons controls are non-responsive," Diaz reported sounding confused.

Jack whirled around. "What do you mean, they're unresponsive?" he demanded. "Override," he ordered.

"I can't sir. Phasers are down as well."

"Evasive maneuvers," Jack ordered, returning his attention to the view screen.

"Helm is unresponsive, sir," shouted the helmsman.

"Captain," Diaz reported, "The _Batleh's_ shields are at critical, sir.

Jack watched helplessly as the Klingon bird of prey exploded into an intense ball of light.

The bridge was suddenly bathed in a violet glow. "We're being probed again?" Jack asked. He halfway turned to look at Diaz, but at that moment his legs went numb and the rest of his body went rigid. He saw Diaz slump over the tactical station just as he himself fell unconscious.

* * *

"Cover me," Worf shouted to Walker and then charged toward one of the assimilated Klingons, before Walker could protest. To Worf, the only way to save his captured brethren now was to kill them. They could not be reasoned with even if he had wanted to.

The Borg-Klingon faced off with Worf and swung a giant ax over its head with a fixed sneer as Worf approached. It ran toward him and swung downward with every intention of splitting Worf's skull in two. Never breaking his stride, Worf suddenly spun to his left and pulled a curved knife from his belt. Shouting he thrust the weapon into the Borg's side and twisted.

The Borg made no sound as it fell to the floor either dead or deactivated. Crouching down he examined the former Klingon for some sign it had once been an individual. Its armor was nondescript and there was little to indicate who this Klingon had been. At least, judged Worf, it had died fighting like a Klingon. He looked up as a shot rang out over his head. A Borg drone that had been racing toward Worf from the opposite direction, dropped to its knees as it struggled not to fall backward having been struck directly in the chest by Walker's shot.

Worf stood up and kicked the Borg in the chest, toppling it over. "It was a good day for you to die," he said.

* * *

Borg utility drone designated 58921 transported onto the Enterprise bridge, and immediately scanned for hostile Starfleet personnel. There were none. All of the humans on the bridge were incapacitated. The Borg stood and scanned for the life signs and physical description of the human the Borg had been ordered to detain. "Captain…Crusher, Jack…human, male, height 1.8034 meters, weight 88 kilograms." Its scan completed, the Borg walked to a prone figure on the deck of the bridge. Activating its force field generator, it emitted a small energy grid just large enough to cover the human's still form.

The humans would now be unable to disturb the Crusher Captain. He would remain in captivity until the appropriate time. The remaining humans on board would remain inert as well until the leader indicated otherwise. The Borg stepped back having completed its task, and a swirl of green energy beamed it back to its ship.

In main Engineering Borg utility drone 62615 stepped over the motionless bodies of the crew members frozen by the violet beam. The Borg carefully but efficiently scanned the interior of the Engineering bay, pausing only for half an instant to scan the pulsing blue-ish white warp core. "Primitive warp propulsion technology," the Borg observed, as it stored new data.

It scanned the incapacitated human forms quickly. Presently its ocular implants settled on a slender form slumped in a chair. "Immature human, male, Crusher, Wesley: weight 65 kilograms, height 1.727 meters." It walked closer to the human and emitted a beam, capturing the boy in a checkered energy grid for safe-keeping. Stepping away, the Borg beamed back to its ship.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

* * *

The thrumming in his ears and body was nearly unbearable. He could feel it reverberating through his intestines, through his bones and seeping into his very consciousness—which had seen a bit too much action recently. "Almost there," Picard breathed, now walking ahead of his team through the utility corridor. He glanced at his tricorder map and could see that they were nearing a large room. He knew that the generator must be there. A few minutes ago, the slope had changed drastically and they were now clearly headed down into the depths of the base.

The ceiling and walls of the corridor had narrowed to the point that it was now hardly more than a tunnel. The heat had also increased considerably, making their environmental suits less than comfortable. The lights mounted on their shoulders allowed for vision only a few feet in front of them and the metal walkway had long ago given way to some kind of crumbling igneous rock, so that their footing was often unstable.

Picard stopped abruptly as his tricorder readings suddenly showed that there were indeed life forms in the cavernous room below. Not expecting him to stop, Beverly stumbled into him, and grabbed the back of his suit in order to regain her balance. Still gripping him, she looked over his shoulder at the tricorder. "They're alive," she said.

He turned to look at her. "If it _is_ them," he said, "yes they are alive." He studied her face in the darkness. "Beverly…I know you have seen your share of gruesome sights, being a doctor…but it will be very disturbing to see the children in this state."

She gazed back at him; her eyes glinted in the dim light as she raised her hand to touch his arm. "I know," she said softly. "But I am more concerned about you having to experience this horrible event all over again. Are you alright?"

He nodded grimly. "In order to focus on the mission—in fact in order for me to function right now, I cannot think of such things. Later, perhaps I will reflect, but…not now," he said, shaking his head.

She reached for his hand, which he took in his own and squeezed quickly before turning back around and they resumed their descent.

"What is the delay up there?" Krala shouted from the back, slamming her weapon into the wall again.

"Oh, _up_ yours," Beverly muttered, falling back into step behind Picard.

* * *

Riker rushed down the corridor as fast as he could, bringing up the rear. He was severely lagging because of his legs which were hurting him very badly. _Should have listened to Deanna._ His lungs burned as he and Walker struggled to keep up with Worf and Data, who in particular was literally tireless.

The four of them had defeated a number of Borg, and were now in pursuit to try and stop the second group of Borg-Klingons, who were marching toward the generator room. According to Picard he and his group were nearly at the generator room by now. Riker's goal, once they rendezvoused with Picard, was simply to hold off the Borg long enough to allow Picard to do what he needed to free the Marca II children.

But there was also something new to concern Captain Riker; for about ten minutes earlier, he had received a brief hail from Lieutenant Diaz aboard the _Enterprise_. It seemed that a trans warp conduit had been located. However, when Riker had attempted to respond to the _Enterprise_ hail, he had received nothing but silence. His communicator was working, and he had notified Picard and the other members of the away team who had also tried to hail the _Enterprise_ , with no success.

Just as disturbingly, Worf and Krala had been unable to hail their own ship the _Batleh_. Worf had been unrevealing in his opinions as to what was happening with his ship. Riker knew Worf was as concerned as he was, but right now it did neither of them any good to worry.

* * *

Picard and his team halted in front of an immense rusted door. He pushed against it with all of his might, and then tried pulling as well, but the door did not budge. "Apparently the Borg don't use this entryway very often," observed Picard. The rest of his group stared at him blankly. "Well…I didn't exactly use this route the last time I was here," he said.

"I thought you knew this place, Picard. _Ptagh!_ Well, what route did you use?" demanded Krala suspiciously.

Picard fiddled with his phaser, trying to find a setting he could use as a cutting tool. "Let's see…they shoved me into a tube and I slid about one hundred meters down into a vat of disgusting liquid; whereupon I was shoved into an even smaller space filled with the same disgusting liquid. Forgive me if I didn't pay closer attention to all of the alternative methods of reaching the generator room while this was happening."

Krala's eyes narrowed, and she pushed Felix out of the way. "Let me try, Picard," she said, moving around him toward the door. Krala gripped two circular handholds in her massive hands and leaned into the door grunting from the effort. Slowly the door began to creak its way open, and the rest of the group pitched in to help slide it open the rest of the way.

They emerged into an immense room with an atmosphere that was thick with moisture. Beverly imagined that they would have heard dripping water all around them had the noise from the generator not been so overpowering. The deep thrum they heard in the tunnel was now almost unbearable in their ears, and the vibration could be felt throughout their bodies.

"This is it," Picard heard himself say. There were no Borg drones in sight. He fought back the penetrating images and memories that came into his mind. The smell of the place, which smelled almost sickeningly sweet, was the smell, he now recalled, of the pink nutrient slime he had ingested so much of when he was imprisoned here eight years ago.

He could almost taste it. He suddenly leaned against the wall and retched. Nothing came out aside from an embarrassing, desperate groan that was the only indication he was willing or able to give of his internal pain. He straightened and turned his head toward the wall and closed his eyes, wanting for the first time, to leave without seeing the children. Shamefully, he suddenly realized he was afraid not for the children; but for himself. An irrational fear took hold of his mind. If they captured him again what would he do? He could not be placed in a receptacle again. He would kill first. He would die first.

He sensed Beverly nearby. "Jean-Luc, I'm here," was all she said. She didn't try to touch him or tell him that everything would be alright, because like him she had many doubts that it would ever be alright again. She was waiting… waiting for him to pull himself together as she seemed confident that he would. It was because of her confidence, not his own, that he opened his eyes and turned away from the wall. He blinked and pushed himself away with a loud exhale.

He walked forward and looked at the generator. It appeared no different than in his memory. It was a giant dull-grey disc shaped platform about six feet high and covering nearly the entire space of the room. Beverly walked up beside him. "Your drawing, Jean-Luc…you drew this," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

He nodded and glanced at her sideways. "Yes," he said. He checked his tricorder. "The life signs we detected earlier, are definitely coming from inside the generator. Beverly, can you determine which if any of the life signs are human?"

Beverly cleared her throat, trying to calm her mind and focus on the task at hand. "Yes…" she said after a few moments. She walked forward slowly adjusting one of the settings and then held out her medical tricorder toward the generator. She continued to walk around the edge of the generator. The tricorder began to beep and the more quickly she walked, the more insistently it beeped. Finally she stopped and turned back to the rest of her colleagues. "Here!" she called out, feeling a rush of adrenaline. "There's someone in here." Felix and Picard ran to her side, while Krala turned her back to them, and activated her weapon, standing guard.

"Now what?" asked Beverly, pulling the bag from around her shoulders and looking at Picard. Picard nodded at Felix. "Could you give me a hand up?" he asked. Felix hesitated a moment and then nodded and crouched down. He interlocked his fingers together for Picard to step into and boosted him up onto the generator. Picard jammed his fingers into a narrow groove in the side of the machine and pulled himself up so that he could stand on top of it. Once standing, he turned slightly to look behind him and could see that the top of the generator was a flat platform.

He crouched down and peered into a foggy hatch. Using his glove, he quickly wiped at the glass. It was dark, but he could see movement inside. Another wave of nausea coursed through him, and he gasped, sitting back on his haunches.

"Careful up there," Felix called out sounding concerned.

"What is it, Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked.

Picard shook his head, trying to clear it. He didn't want to talk, he just wanted to get this over with. He felt as though he were moving through a grey haze. His pulse pounded in his neck quickly as he leaned forward and activated the hatch. He struggled to quickly put his helmet on, just as the hatch opened and the smell hit him again. His helmet now on and the smell somewhat subdued, he peered into the hatch. It was a child, perhaps ten or eleven, perhaps a boy. It was difficult to tell anything really, as the child was immersed in the thick pinkish liquid. Somehow, he was able to distance himself. He told a part of himself that he was not here in this horrible place again. He quickly examined the situation and found that the child was connected to the generator by a single segmented tube inserted into the side of his neck. "How very efficient the Borg are," he thought bleakly.

"Come on," he said, pulling back from the hatch and reaching down for Felix. He grabbed the taller man's hand, as he began to climb awkwardly up the side of the generator. Beverly helped push Felix up from below. Then he and Felix both lay down on their stomachs and reached their arms out to Beverly. Gripping her hands they pulled her up. She was very light.

"Why'd you put your helmet back on?" Felix asked him, crouching down beside him.

"The smell…." Picard said, looking away, bringing his hand to his face.

"Jean-Luc, I can't smell anything," Beverly said, crawling over to him.

He shrugged, and pointed into the hatch. "You can see the child is attached by a port here at the neck."

Beverly nodded but kept her gaze away from Jean-Luc. As horrible as it was to find a child floating in this muck, she could not think of him in the same situation—trapped inside a pitch black container.

"Life signs are strong," she said sounding hopeful. "We could really use Data right now," she said. "She tapped the metal snake-like tube stretching from the child's neck to the side of the container. The pipeline shivered and moved away from her hand as though it were alive. Seeing what they had so far of the Borg, perhaps it was alive. It was her turn to shiver. "I don't think Dr. Farmer and I can safely remove this implant unless it is somehow deactivated first," she said.

Krala suddenly let out a bloodcurdling scream, and began firing, as an entryway opened at the far opposite end of the room and the Klingon-Borg drones began streaming in. As soon as they saw Krala, they began to charge her.

* * *

Picard moved in front of Beverly and Felix to try and shield them. "Move behind the open hatch," he barked at them. "I will cover you both," he shouted above the sound of energy beams criss-crossing around the room.

He fired from his perch on top of the generator and took out two Borg. Just then he saw Data run swiftly into the room, followed a moment later by Worf, and then moments after by Walker and Riker. "Over here, Data," Picard waved the android over. Data increased the speed of his run, and without waiting for an invitation, jumped up onto the generator effortlessly. He turned then and ran backwards across the platform toward Picard, Beverly, and Felix while he continued to shoot his phaser at the drones. Riker, Walker and Worf took cover as Krala continued to fire ferociously as though possessed. Seeing Data approach, Picard jumped down to join Krala.

"Any ideas, Data?" Beverly asked, as he knelt down beside her. She and Felix had been trying for several minutes to free the strange looking tube from the child's neck. The boy had only a few noticeable implants, but the most important one was the one that attached him to the inside of the pod. Data reached into the pink liquid and moved his hand around. The metal shook and shivered for a moment and then grew still when he removed his hand. He tilted his head curiously.

"It would take considerable time to devise a way to deactivate the power to this single pod," said Data, looking down at the floating child. "And it is highly likely that the Borg have many failsafe mechanisms to prevent such an occurrence as complete generator shut-down."

"So, you're saying we can't disconnect the power before we disconnect the child?" Felix asked. "We can't have come all this way just to give up because we've hit a wall," he said thumping his hand on his knee.

"Who said we were giving up?" said Beverly. " _I'm_ not giving up," she said glaring at Felix with frustration she knew was really directed at the circumstances, not him.

"But we can't kill the child either, Beverly," said Felix.

Data dipped his hand slowly back into the liquid, and the tube jerked again. Data pulled his hand out and then his face grew strangely blank. "What are you doing?" Felix asked.

"I am attempting to create a simple virus, Doctor Farmer," said Data. "I will then introduce the virus into the generator with specific instructions. If I am able to create it correctly, the generator will consider my program to be just another order from the Borg collective."

"What are you going to instruct the generator to do?" asked Beverly.

"I will instruct it that the children have introduced a virus to the Collective and need to be released. The generator will believe me, because I will introduce a secondary program which will have the appearance of a virus."

"But the secondary virus won't be a real virus at all?" Felix asked.

"No," said Data. "I will be 'playing a trick' as Geordi says."

Beverly ducked as an energy beam shot over their heads. "What can we do to assist you Data?"

Data looked at her. "Please disconnect me after 30 seconds," he said simply.

"Disconnect you from wha—"

Data flipped open the palm of his right hand to reveal a small glowing port. Before Beverly or Felix could stop him, Data thrust his hand into the bubbling liquid. Immediately, the tube in the child's neck retracted, and the serpent-like head of the tube shot out and plugged itself into Data's palm. Data fell backward onto the platform and his body went rigid.

"Ah!" Beverly shouted in alarm, but then immediately began to count to thirty as Data had instructed. Felix grabbed the child gently and pulled him out of the pod, placing him down on the platform. The boy threw up the pink liquid a few times before taking in a choking breath. Beverly took out a kind of forceps instrument and held it at the ready, near the tube.

"What's going on up there?" Picard shouted up to her as he and Krala continued to lay down cover fire.

"We…we don't exactly know," she shouted back down to him. "Data has taken it upon himself to introduce a virus." She returned to her counting, and held the forceps with a steady hand. "Thirty!" she declared a few moments later, and grabbed the tube with the forceps, expecting it to writhe as it had before.

But instead, the lights in the room dimmed, the thrumming vibration lessened, and the tube fell out of Data's hand-port. Data blinked his eyes several times and then sat up, looking around quickly. Beverly monitored his life signs while Felix continued to tend to the young boy.

Her head jerked up at the sound of a hatch opening, and then another and another. Data got to his feet and ran to some of the other hatches to inspect. He jogged back to Beverly and Felix. "Doctors… 49 more hatches have opened up on the generator, and as with this pod, the children inside have been released."

Beverly looked down at the boy's head cradled in her arms, and she laughed with relief, her breath catching in her throat. "Thank goodness," she said softly.

* * *

"Captain Riker, this is _Enterprise_ , do you read?"

"Enterprise! I sure as hell do! Where have you been?"

"I will explain later, Captain," Lieutenant Diaz said. Her voice, to say the least, sounded strained. "Another trans warp conduit has opened, sir, and we can depart for Earth immediately upon your return sir."

"We need to beam the children up first," said Walker elbowing Riker out of the way so that he could fire at a Borg.

Riker looked down to read a message from Data on his tricorder. " _Enterprise_ , the children have been released and can be beamed to sickbay right away. Make sure you have enough staff on hand. There are fifty children. All alive," he added with a smile. "Are you able to lock on to their signal?"

There was a pause. "Yes, sir. We can do it in groups of ten, Captain," said Diaz.

"Hurry!" said Riker. He saw Worf stagger and could see he had been injured. "Worf!" he called out.

* * *

A moment later he saw the transporter beam energize and take the first group of children, including the young boy they had pulled out of the first pod. A few minutes later, the second group was beamed up, and this continued until only the away team remained, along with the attacking Borg.

Picard rushed over to the generator and reached up to help Beverly get down. She slipped on the way down and he caught her. She hugged him tightly for just a moment and then it occurred to her to give him a quick kiss and she did, despite the rush. He laughed, relieved, and they ran with Felix and Data over to the other away team members and stood still, waiting for the beam to take them. Beverly grasped his hand.

"We're in position, Diaz. Just bring us all up onto the bridge," Riker said. "Energize," he said.

* * *

Riker and Walker were laughing about something they would no doubt soon forget as they materialized on the bridge.

"Sir!" Riker turned to look at Lt. Diaz behind him, surprised to find her sitting in the Captain's chair and she nodded grimly before standing up.

But then he followed her gaze to the floor in front of him. Jack Crusher lay with his eyes wide open, but he was encased in some kind of yellow webbed energy grid. "Jack!" Walker shouted, and knelt down next to his friend. Jack was unresponsive.

"Sir," Diaz warned, having returned to her usual post at tactical. "Don't touch that grid, or you will be injured. Some of our people already learned the hard way, and they are now in sickbay."

"Jean-Luc…where is he?" Beverly was standing nearby in apparent shock, staring at Jack's prone body. "Where is Jean-Luc?" she said in a louder voice. "He was right here," she whispered, looking down at her hand. He had been holding her hand when they transported.

"He transported up with us," Walker said. "What the hell happened?"

Riker lifted his head. "Transporter room, can you get a lock on Picard's signal?"

"Sir, I can't get a read on anything or anyone on the Borg planet," floated O'Brien's frustrated voice.

"That's not good enough," Beverly said with quiet resolve. She knelt down next to Jack's body and ran her tricorder over him. He was alive, but who or what was doing this to him? "Get me a shuttle, then. Walker and I will go down and bring him back." Walker put a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off distractedly.

"There is a shield now encasing the Borg base," reported the officer at ops. "The same energy grid. We do not have the technology to pierce their shields, Captain," he added.

"Of course we don't," Riker muttered. Turning away from Jack and Beverly for a moment, he was about to ask Diaz a question when Beverly screamed.

"Jack!" There had been a white flash and then Jack disappeared.

" _Diaz,"_ came a new voice, and the speaker sounded desperate. It was Geordi LaForge. " _The security posted near Wesley just came to find me. They said…they said he's gone. Disappeared in a flash. We've got to do something. Have you heard from Riker?"_

"I'm here," Riker snapped. "But did I hear you correctly? Wesley has disappeared too?"

" _Too?"_ echoed Geordi, sounding lost.

Beverly clasped her hands on either side of her face, and fell slowly to her knees, shutting her eyes. Walker sat down on the floor with her and put an arm around her shoulders.


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

* * *

The sun was too hot for his skin. Yes, he now had skin, but it was very tender and until his scales grew in completely he was at risk of burning to a crisp. But he'd also had enough of squirming through the soil in search of more soil. He was tired of being a worm. There were benefits to it, of course, but right now it just wasn't for him. The other worms just didn't understand his complexities. No one understood his complexities quite like Picard did.

He was contemplating all of this when he saw the cave; or rather, since he had no eyes, he sensed a change in the air nearby; a cool and mossy smell. So instead of diving back underground, he undulated his body in an S pattern until he reached the cave.

Venturing into the blessed coolness, he considered the alternatives and decided this would be a good place to spend the evening. He was large enough by now to attract predators, and while he doubted that he tasted good, he didn't want to risk getting picked off by some kind of flying thing…or a walking thing. Hopefully neither of these types of creatures lived in this cave.

As he coiled up in a corner of the cave, he considered the plight of the other Q. He knew they had been defeated by Yar. He didn't know how she had done it, but he knew she had won. He could feel it in his, well…if he had had bones, he would have been able to feel it in his bones.

Settling down to sleep, he suddenly felt warmth, not hot like the sun outside, but a more comforting warmth. Uncurling his long body, he raised his head and moved it from side to side. This was his way of sensing the object in front of him. There was something very familiar about the warmth, and it seemed to cover him a in a soft glow.

"Hello," he thought. "Are you who I think you are?"

"Yes," answered the Power, which conveniently could not only understand, but could also speak worm language.

"Oh, how wonderful," thought Q with delight. "You know, I was wondering when you would show up again."

"I am not the same as I was," said the Power. "I have been taken for granted too many times to count, by you Q."

"Are you saying we can't go back to the way we were? But I have such fond memories of us together."

"If we are to reunite Q, we really must come to another Understanding. This situation with Yar is very, very unsatisfactory for me. You know me, Q…and I do not care to be used to effectuate so much death and destruction."

"Not even a _little_ bit of death and destruction?" thought Q.

"Well, a little bit is of course foreseeable. But, really this is excessive!"

"I have to agree," thought Q.

"I need a partner who understands me, Q."

"Well, you have come to the right place," thought Q.

"Actually you came to me," said the Power.

"Oh, right," thought Q.

"Can you agree to stop forcibly abducting individuals from the lower races? It really has not worked out well for…well anyone."

"That is an understatement," thought Q.

* * *

 **The Enterprise**

Beverly exploded with fury, directed at the tactical officer turned acting-Captain. "Why didn't you tell me they had my son in one of those things?" She shouted walking swiftly toward Diaz.

Walker and Felix each caught her by an arm before she let her temper get control of her. Lt. Diaz for her part was being very professional about the whole thing. She turned to face Beverly, but didn't back away from her post. "I'm sorry, Doctor Crusher," Diaz said. "I should have said something to you, but everything happened so quickly-"

"Yes, you _should_ have said something! I could have done _something_ ; I could have stopped them..."

"No, Beverly," said Walker quietly. "There was nothing you could have done."

She wrestled herself from Walker's grip and pushed Felix away. "Don't tell me that, Walker. And don't try to make me feel better, because you can't," she snapped.

"My son is missing. The Borg or Yar or _whoever_ just took him right off of this ship. And they did the same to Jack. And Jean-Luc didn't even make it back from the away team mission. Now everyone I love just disappeared. Captain, we need to rescue them."

Counselor Troi stepped onto the bridge at that moment. She locked eyes with her husband momentarily. She sighed inwardly, for he was safe, at least physically. But she could tell that Will's mind and heart were in turmoil. And Beverly's emotions were nearly unreadable she was so distraught and angry. Something must have happened to Wesley…and Picard…and gods where was Jack Crusher?

"We need to return home," Riker said, looking around the bridge. "We came for the children, and we have them now." As bad as things were for them on the Enterprise, to know that they might not have a home to return to made him just feel lost. But he imagined his friend Picard…down there somewhere trying to make it back. Trying to find a way to defeat Yar. He cleared his throat, working hard to keep himself composed.

Beverly approached him, interrupting his thoughts. "Will, I know you cannot possibly be thinking of going back to Earth when-"

"Of _course_ I am thinking of going back to Earth!" Riker shouted. "I have a duty to everyone on this ship, as well as the people on Earth who need our help."

"Jean-Luc saved you, Will…you cannot possibly think of leaving him behind to die. And Jack? This is his ship, not yours—"

"Now, that's enough _Commander_ ," yelled Riker glaring at Beverly. "You're out of line!"

Beverly glared back at him for a few moments. "Put yourself in my place, Will, would you please?"

"It's my call to make, Doctor."

Beverly dropped her gaze and pressed her lips together tightly, stepping back. She remained silent as she stood staring at the floor, but the anger continued to radiate from her.

Riker ran his hands through his hair and paced around the bridge. Finally, he stopped and stared down at the floor. "We're staying," he said.

"Captain we can't be certain how long that conduit will remain open," warned Lt. Diaz. "We could lose any chance of return to Earth."

"I know." Walking back to the command chair, he tapped the armrest. "Geordi, I need you to pull whatever tricks you have left out of your hat and try and keep that conduit open."

" _Understood, sir. I'll need Commander Data_ ," LaForge said.

Riker nodded to Data, who left swiftly for the turbo lift without a word.

* * *

"Lt. Diaz, I need you to continue trying to find a weakness in the shield perimeter around the Borg base."

"Aye sir."

Beverly stood, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Thank you," she said in a very low voice. Her bottom lip trembled.

Riker looked at her and gave her a slow sympathetic smile. "I don't know how, Beverly, but I trust that Picard will find a way to stop Yar. And if he does, the Earth will be safe, or at least…there will be an Earth to return to."

Beverly nodded and despite her pain, smiled back faintly. "I'm going to go and attend to my new patients," she said, now able to think about the children again, even if her focus was not perfect. Gathering her strength she turned and left the bridge.

Worf stalked down the ramp toward Riker. "And what of my ship? I was unable to communicate with Krem while down on the planet."

Diaz raised her head with a wide-eyed expression. _Oh no_ , she thought. She cleared her throat nervously.

Riker got to his feet and turned slowly to regard Diaz. "Lieutenant? Was there something else you needed to report?"

"I um—I'm sorry, Captain. Just so much has happened, and…."

"Lieutenant!"

"The _Batleh_ is gone, sir."

"What?" Krala suddenly ran at Diaz, but Worf caught her around the waist.

"There will be none of that on my bridge," Riker shouted, raising his hands. "Now on Earth we have a saying, 'don't shoot the messenger'. Now I ask everyone on this bridge right now to strictly observe that principle, so that Diaz can tell us- without threat of harm- what happened to the _Batleh_."

Krala glowered at him and then back at Diaz. Riker addressed Diaz again. "What happened to the _Batleh_?"

"The Borg sphere we encountered destroyed it, sir."

Riker raised his eyebrows. "The Borg _sphere_?" Weren't the cubes bad enough?

"Yes, sir. I've forwarded you the full report of what occurred while you were gone."

"Well…I'll just have to read that report then," said Riker.

"But where does that leave Krala and me? We are without a ship! Without our people…." Worf trailed off.

"I'm sorry, Worf—sorry to the both of you. We would be honored to have you aboard, until we can connect you with a Klingon ship again."

Worf frowned. "We have…little choice but to accept your invitation, Captain. Please let us know if we may be of use. Come, Krala…we must mourn our fallen crewmen."

Krala gave a final growl at Diaz before turning and following Worf.

Riker returned his gaze to Lt. Diaz. "If you have any more surprises for us Lieutenant, now would be the time to share."

* * *

Wesley Crusher suddenly found himself in the middle of a cold floor. He pushed himself up to his feet. He felt his shoulder. His bag was still there. He pulled out his tricorder. Relieved, he could see it was still working. Glancing around, he found the dim featureless hallway to be empty. Where was he? Was this a Borg ship? Was he on the Borg base? Were his mother and father still here with the rest of the away team?

Knowing he would not find the answers to all of his questions by standing still, he tiptoed along until he came to the end of the hallway, where a tall door stood before him. He needed to find some sort of communications terminal so that he could try and call the _Enterprise_. He walked hesitantly toward the door. It slid open very quickly, and he was immediately hit by a blast of hot air and the smell of sulfur.

Squinting, Wesley stepped through the door, and it shut behind him almost immediately. He turned back briefly and tried to engage the door again, but it would not move. He turned back around and leaned back against the door, bracing himself as another blast of hot air shook his body and whatever structure he was standing on. He coughed and when he breathed in again, the sulfurous air filled his lungs, causing another violent coughing fit.

As Wesley's eyes adjusted to the reddish haze he could now see that he was outside. He looked down at his feet and nearly fell over from a sudden wave of vertigo. He was up high—very high. He must have been more than 20 meters up. It was some kind of bridge, or had been at one time at least. Pieces were missing from the bridge, and if he was not careful he could easily slip through and fall to his death. He was afraid to look over the railing to see exactly what he would be falling into.

He must be on the Borg planet, but how had he arrived here? Was it Yar? More importantly how could he find his way back to the ship? Or maybe if he could find his father, he could help him rescue the children. He had no sense of how much time had passed since he was last on board the _Enterprise_.

He pulled the collar of his shirt up over his face. It was hard to breathe the atmosphere and it was so hot he could hardly concentrate. He had to find a way back inside, or he might not be able to last out here. He could remember his father saying the atmosphere was breathable but ultimately toxic with prolonged exposure.

He walked out a little bit further onto the bridge and that was when he realized the middle of the bridge was missing, as though it had been worn away. He looked around and spotted a control panel just before the bridge dropped off. On the other side of the drop off he could see the end of the bridge about 100 meters away from him. He squinted, seeing movement far ahead of him. He walked toward the middle of the bridge where the control panel was situated. He grabbed the shaky railing as a hot wind rattled the bridge and threatened to push him off of his feet. He peered down at the panel. It appeared to be active.

He glanced up sharply at the movement again. This time though he heard a gasp, and a grunt of exertion. It sounded human. "Hello?" he called out. "Hello!"

"Wes…?" From a distance, Wesley heard someone call his name, and he saw shaking fingers trying to grip the bridge platform.

* * *

Jack Crusher couldn't remember how he had arrived on the Borg planet. But he knew that he had arrived on the bridge by falling onto it. One minute he had been on the Enterprise, and then the next he had been falling through the air on what he now assumed through painfully foggy thoughts, was the Borg planet.

Because of the fall, his left arm was broken, and one of his knees was damaged, and he couldn't walk properly. He had tried, and that was when he had fallen through a rusty spot on the bridge. He now gripped the bridge desperately with his right arm, but it was slipping. Below him he had wrapped his legs around a support jutting out, but didn't know how long he would be able to maintain his hold.

Then, miraculously he had heard Wesley's voice calling out. "Wesley," he called back, his voice sounding hoarse and weak to his own ears. He called out again in a stronger voice. Wesley was here. He would be able to help him. He was here for a reason.

"Dad?!" Wesley stood at the edge of the drop off. He could see a forearm and hand gripping the bridge. It might have been his Dad's arm.

"Wes! Hurry, I'm going to fall…."

Wesley turned around and looked at the control panel again. Finding what he believed were the bridge controls, he began to try and work them. The bridge extension edged forward slightly then halted. The panel went black. There wasn't enough power. He began typing into his tricorder furiously. He had to find a way to help his Dad.

"Wes, hurry…I can't hold on much longer."

Wesley turned away at the sound of the door opening. It now appeared very far away, but it was still close enough that he could make out three shadowy figures in the doorway. The Borg were coming for him.

* * *

 **Hi everyone, thanks for your reviews, and for following the story. I hope to post the rest of the chapters soon. It's almost at an end! -PP**


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

* * *

He was lying on his belly and the right side of his face felt like it was burning. A strong smell of sulfur invaded his nose and mouth. He blinked, and tried to raise his head, realizing it was stuck to whatever he was lying on. He put his palms flat on the ground, and did a pushup, groaning with pain as the skin on the side of his face peeled away. He squatted on the ground and looked around him. Everywhere the ground was black, with tiny red cracks appearing throughout. He coughed. He was still on the Borg planet, but now he was outside.

Yar was playing another of her games, he could see now. Well, at least she had left him with his environmental suit, or else he wouldn't stand a chance out on these flats. The ground shifted precariously under his feet as he glanced around for his helmet. Seeing it several meters away, he slid his feet carefully, so as not to disturb the shifting ground and edged himself over to his helmet. Bending over, he picked it up and was about to put it on, when he heard someone cry out, "help!" Perhaps it was a figment of his imagination, or another game.

Attaching his helmet to his belt, he turned to his left and not too far away was a looming bridge. It appeared huge to him. He would have to climb the supports if he was to get back into the base. That is, if he wanted to get back into the base. He tapped his communicator, but there was no signal. Looking up through the haze of wavy red atmosphere he could see the faint lines of a gold grid-like dome which covered the Borg base and surrounding area. He recognized that grid and knew the Enterprise would not be able to beam him out; nor would they be able to send anyone in to get him. So he would need to get into the base and find some way to work out a one way transport onto the ship or some other mode of escape. "I can't hold on!" he heard the scream again. It was so familiar now, and coming from the direction of the bridge.

He began to run, trying to tread as lightly as possible. But it seemed every other step he took the smooth greyish black landscape threatened to crack causing him to teeter awkwardly before catching his balance. He knew that if he fell in, he would be burned alive in the molten rock. He was able to pick up his pace gradually and made better time closing in on the base of the bridge. Looking upward he saw a pair of dangling black trouser legs high above him. _Jack!_

Jumping toward one of the base pylons, he climbed up onto one of the giant foot-like support structures and looked up again. "Jack! Hold on," he called out, cupping his hands around his mouth trying to amplify the sound. If Jack heard him, he didn't respond. He wasn't even going to worry himself about how Jack came to be hanging precariously from a bridge. He tried to put all thoughts of Yar out of his mind.

Pulling off his gloves, and tucking them into a pocket, he searched for a handhold. This was going to be very difficult, for the bridge exterior was quite smooth. But he could see that at ascending intervals there were places where he would be able to grip. He knew he would need to use the low gravity to try and propel himself along. The trick would be to not propel himself backward into a free fall ending in a fiery death. "I'm coming, Jack," he shouted again, pulling himself upward.

* * *

"You're going to be alright," she said, running her hand down over the girl's back. "The implants are gone now, and over the next few days the physical pain will fade."

The girl looked at her with gaunt cheeks and seemed to stare through her. She couldn't have been more than nine or ten years old. "Where is my father? His name is Robert Ballard. Did you find him on Marca II?"

Beverly Crusher looked down at her hands and then back up into the girl's eyes. "What is your name?" she asked with a gentle smile.

The girl blinked and was quiet for a moment, as though unsure of the answer to that question. "Sally," she said, and it was almost a question.

Beverly sat down on the bed next to the girl and put her arm around her. "Sally, your father was killed on Marca II. By the same ones who took you and the other children. I'm very sorry."

The girl was in shock, Beverly knew, and couldn't be expected to express a proper emotion. Beverly squeezed her shoulder, but the girl just sat stiffly. Maybe she didn't want to be touched. Who could blame her? She let go of the girl and stood up slowly. "Sally, why don't you let me know if I can get you anything? If I am not around, please ask for Alyssa, okay?"

"I want to go to Earth," the girl suddenly blurted out. "I've never been there."

Beverly's eyes stung with tears. "I think that will happen very soon." She felt a hint of guilt in her mind, knowing that she had all but bullied Riker into staying in the Delta Quadrant. Not knowing what else to say, she smiled and turned and walked around the room checking in on her other patients. She saw Felix leaning over a little girl, carefully cleaning the place on her neck where an implant had been. The girl was very agitated, and Alyssa Ogawa was holding her gently but firmly, and trying to calm her down.

As Beverly walked by them, Felix gave her a quick glance before returning to his work. She hoped that he wasn't angry with her. She had been very short with him recently, and had even pushed him without thinking while up on the bridge. She had been so overcome with emotion, that she hadn't known quite what to do except to lash out in anger. It wasn't like her, but then these exact circumstances had never happened to her before either. Anyway, she knew that Felix was too gentle and compassionate to hold a grudge. She looked at Felix and Alyssa again, and could see that they were developing feelings for each other; just by the way they stood close to one another. She hoped that they would have a chance to fall in love under less trying circumstances.

She moved away, making brief eye contact with Counselor Troi who was talking softly to a group of children. Then someone caught her eye. He was staring at her. It was the boy from the planet—the first one they had freed. She walked slowly toward him. Gazing at him from a medical perspective, he appeared to be healing well physically. But she knew the emotional and mental wounds were far too deep to even touch right now.

She pulled out her tricorder as she approached, and then seeing his eyes widen, she thought better of it and tucked the instrument back in her pocket. She decided to keep her hands in her pockets. She really didn't want to alarm him. His large eyes were set back in his gaunt face, just as Sally's had been. But to her surprise, he smiled at her, and there was a look of recognition in his eyes, which she now could see were a beautiful shade of brown.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, knowing it was a very loaded question.

The boy frowned. "As long as I don't think about the robo men, I feel fine." He touched the left side of his neck where the tube had been. Beverly shivered, remembering when she first saw this boy curled up in the pink sludge. And when she thought of that, she thought of Jean-Luc, and how he had suffered at the hands of the Borg, and had used the knowledge he had gained from that experience to help free this boy and the others. And now, was he again captured by them? Would he be able to save Wesley and Jack? She ran a hand through her hair and exhaled trying to push those thoughts further back in her mind. She looked at the boy and smiled faintly. "I think I know what you mean. I have been trying not to think about them either."

"You saved me," the boy said, smiling again. His eyes displayed a wisdom and serenity despite what he had just endured. "I remember your hair," he said. "And him," he pointed over at Felix, who had moved on to another patient. "And the man with the golden eyes…" he paused. "Where is the man with the helmet? He saved me too." He watched her and she was unable to keep her face from showing her sorrow.

"They took him too, didn't they? They want to take us all…and use us. And if you don't fit anywhere, they don't care, they just get rid of you," he said as though it were a simple fact.

Beverly didn't want to acknowledge that the Borg could do such a thing to Jean-Luc, again, so she merely nodded, her mouth forming a tight line. "I'm Beverly. What is your name?"

"Seth," said the boy, touching the top of his head carefully. His head and those of the other children had been shaved. "Will my hair grow back?"

"Yes," she said, reaching out to pat his knee. She put her hand on his. "And what will your hair look like when it grows back?"

He shrugged, but held fast to her hand. "Curly, I guess."

She broke into a smile. "Oh I just love curly hair." She grew serious then, glancing at him hesitantly. "Seth…is there anything that you need from me?" She took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for the conversation she had been having with every child she spoke to today. "You know, many of the other children have been asking me about their parents…they're wondering where they are."

"I know where my mother is," said Seth. "I saw her killed by one of the robo men. They shot right through her and came for me. Jojo tried to stop them, but they shot her too. I don't even know if Jojo is still alive…I wish I knew."

"Was Jojo an adult, or a child?"

"She's three…so I guess she is an adult in dog years."

Beverly raised her eyebrows. "Jojo is a dog?" Seth nodded, as she sat down beside him. "And you said she was wounded? Um…what does she look like?" she ventured cautiously.

"She's really big, with fluffy black fur and she eats…like everything," he said.

Beverly felt tears come to her eyes again, but this time she laughed. "Seth, Jojo is still alive and doing just fine. She's here on the Enterprise in fact."

"What? Can you take me to see her?"

She grabbed him into a hug without thinking. "Of course I can."

* * *

He was no longer able to call out to Jack, because it took all of his physical strength to keep climbing. From up above, Jack simply groaned every now and then. Picard tried to climb as fast as he could. A few times, he nearly fell because either his boot slipped, or his grip came loose, and then to avoid falling backwards he swung himself back into the bridge. His body was bruised and battered and his fingers felt numb, but he kept climbing.

It was when he got about two thirds of the way up to the top that he heard Jack shout "Wesley!" His breath caught in his throat, and he nearly spun off of the bridge. His right arm twisted in the hand hold above him, and he made the mistake of looking down between his feet. He was so far up. His heart leapt in his chest with fear and adrenaline. And knowing that Wesley was here too made him so angry that he doubled his efforts to reach Jack. He righted himself and gripped the handhold with two hands, pulling himself up.

"Dad?" he heard Wesley shout to Jack. _No, no, no,_ he said to himself. _Wesley please, be safe._ He would kill Yar when he saw her. He swore he would. No one would need to know. He would do it when Jack and Wesley weren't there, but he had to end it here on this planet.

He was now within meters of Jack. He gathered his strength. "Jack! I'm coming…just hang on!"

Jack gasped above him. "Jean-Luc? Jean-Luc! Hurry, please the Borg are coming! Wesley…."

Picard paused when he reached Jack. His friend was hanging by one arm having fallen through a rusty spot in the bridge. The hole was jagged, but was big enough to pull himself through without disturbing Jack, if he was careful enough. His arms felt like jelly, and he had to focus his mental strength to pull himself up the rest of the way onto the bridge surface. He groaned as the jagged edges of the hole scraped down over his torso. He knew that if he hadn't been wearing the environmental suit his chest and stomach would have been cut to ribbons.

Getting his footing, he hooked his belt onto a piece of bridge support jutting out and grabbed one side of the rim of his helmet, offering the other side to Jack. "Grab it, Jack," he shouted, grasping Jack's wrist in his hand. "Ah!" He strained with the effort of holding Jack's weight with one arm. With Jean-Luc holding his wrist, Jack was able to grasp the rim of the helmet. Holding the other side of the helmet, Picard walked backward slowly, as Jack was dragged up and out of the hole. Jack fell on top of him in a heap.

Laying on his back, Picard turned his head, and saw Wesley. A ten meter chasm separated their tiny piece of the bridge, with Wesley's. He saw the Borg advancing behind the boy, and realized now that Yar intended to make him have to choose between saving his friend, and saving his son. Well he wasn't going to play her game. "Wesley!"

* * *

Wesley Crusher punched the final code into his tricorder, and glanced behind him again. The Borg walking toward him appeared to be in no hurry. They thought they had him. He placed the tricorder on the control panel and it lit up. He looked up hearing Picard's voice for the first time. "Sir?" he looked at Picard, who was trying to help his Dad. He could tell his Dad would not be able to walk, but between him and Captain Picard, they would be able to carry him. The tricorder beeped, and then suddenly the bridge began to extend slowly to the other side.

"Run, Wesley! Run this way," Picard was screaming at him, now seeing that the bridge was slowly extending. Picard had taken his space suit off and was putting it on Jack. He put the helmet on Jack as well to help him breathe, to save him from the toxic atmosphere. "I'll come back for you Jack," he said, holstering his phaser.

Wesley was running toward Picard faster than the bridge was extending, and periodically he had to stop and wait for it to advance further. Picard could only wait until the moving bridge came close enough for him to jump to Wesley. But he was running out of time, for the Borg were advancing on his son. He could see now the bridge and Wesley were about twenty feet away. "Go get him Jean-Luc," Jack whispered eyes wide inside his helmet. Stepping three big steps back, Picard ran and jumped up and outward into the air. He knew that there was nothing whatsoever beneath him, so he had to make it across.

"Sir!" Wesley screamed as Picard came flying through the air toward him, arms and legs flailing. Wesley felt the cold fingers grip on his arm and struck backward, just as Picard struck the edge of the bridge chest first. His fingers dug desperately into the surface of the bridge as he struggled to hang on. His gaze never left Wesley as the Borg took hold of his son and began dragging him back toward the now open doorway at the other end of the bridge. "No!" Wesley screamed, trying to fight off the Borg.

Picard cried out in response, dragging himself fully up onto the bridge, swinging his leg up and out of the way just as the two edges of the bridge joined together with a click. He had been so close. But not good enough. He watched laying on his stomach as the three Borg pulled Wesley through the doorway. His uneven, desperate breaths became sobs as he slammed his forehead onto the metal surface, feeling a frustrated rage well up inside him.

Every breath he took now was like knives plunging into his chest. Getting to his feet, he coughed up a spatter of blood. Staggering forward toward the far doorway, he set his phaser to kill.


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

* * *

Picard walked in through the open doorway. Of course it was open. It was all part of her game. A game he was very tired of playing. She didn't even need his power now, and yet she was still trying to goad him, bully him and trick him into using it. But no; he resolved to himself to use it only when the time was right. But would he know when that was? Something else occurred to him. What if his power didn't work anymore? What if, like the Q who had been subjugated to Yar's will, he was unable to affect Yar at all? If she was able to kill Q, how could he be expected to defeat her?

He glanced back at Jack, who was still lying motionless, resting on the Borg bridge. He didn't know whether Jack would still be there when he returned. His friend's injuries were not life threatening, but what if Yar moved him or harmed him in some way? He put the thoughts out of his mind. He didn't want to give her any ideas.

Two Borg drones approached from the opposite direction. They appeared uninterested in him. He put his hand on his phaser and gritted his teeth, but resisted the urge to shoot. He began to jog away from them down the corridor, although it was already so difficult to breathe. He was desperate to find Wesley, but he needed to focus his mind.

His breath sounded ragged to his own ears, and each new one was more painful than the last. He knew where he was headed. Yar knew his every thought and memory-if she chose to, and so she knew how to hurt him. She had taken his only son, and to hurt him the most, she would have only taken him to one place. This thought drove him faster.

* * *

"Oh this is not fair at all," thought Q in protest. "Yar is toying with Picard, and there is not a thing I can do."

"Now that I have shown you the reality your mistakes have caused, what is it exactly that you would do, Q?" the Power asked.

"Well, I would help him of course. Help him defeat Yar."

"You cannot. It is too late for you to intervene before the end."

"The end?"

"Yes…it is up to your friend Picard to ensure a new beginning, however. What he does will determine whether the Q deserve to resume their place in the universe."

"Is there more than one way to stop Yar?

"Of course," said the Power. "There are many ways this story can end."

* * *

"Is this your house?" Seth looked up at Beverly as they stopped outside Jean-Luc's quarters.

"No," she said, punching in a code that let them in. "These are Jean-Luc's quarters. Marca—I mean Jojo, has been living with him since he—since he saved her."

"Lights," she said as they walked into the living area, and the lights turned on. Marca had been sitting in the dark, no doubt waiting for Jean-Luc to return. When she saw them her ears perked up and then she ran to Seth, and began sniffing him all over. Marca sniffed Beverly too. Perhaps they both smelled like the Borg base still. The dog's tail began to wag like crazy and then she suddenly stood on two feet and put her paws on Seth's shoulders and began licking his face. Seth laughed and hugged her.

Beverly sat down quietly and watched boy and dog reunite for a few minutes. "Are you hungry, Seth? You must be starving," she said after a while. She studied his face now seeing him under softer lights than in sickbay. His skin tone was a beautiful light brown and completely smooth. She looked down at her knees suddenly thinking about Wesley.

Seth looked up at her, still petting the dog. "I'm actually not hungry. I tried to have something when I was in the hospital earlier but no matter what I eat, all I can taste is this sweet taste. Even sitting here, I feel like I can taste it. I know it sounds strange, ma'am."

Beverly smiled. "You can call me Beverly…in fact I prefer it to ma'am any day," she said. She sighed. "You might not be hungry because you've gone many days without proper food. I'm not going to push you Seth, but eventually you will need to eat something. How about something to drink?"

Seth shrugged. "Okay…just water is fine." He didn't think he would be able to swallow anything more than that.

She brought him a glass of water and he took it carefully, studying it suspiciously for a few moments as though it were a foreign substance. Then slowly he took a small sip. Immediately he gagged reflexively and spit it out onto the floor. His hand began to shake, holding the glass, and Beverly took it from him quickly. She got up and stood next to him rubbing his upper back until he stopped trembling.

"It's okay," she said, quietly. "Ready to try again?" she asked, trying to sound encouraging as she held the glass out to him again. She didn't want to force him, but honestly the kid had to be able to drink water at the very least. He couldn't be fed intravenously forever, and somehow that thought made her nauseous and angry at the same time. How could the Borg take something so basic from a child such as knowing how to eat?

Seth paused, breathing in and out, fogging up the glass, and finally drank another sip, tilting his head back at an odd angle and closing his eyes. Tears began to stream down his face, and then suddenly he exhaled loudly and opened his eyes. He looked up at Beverly and smiled.

Beverly laughed, fighting back tears herself. "There, you did it. See? It will get easier soon…I promise." She moved away from him and sat down on the couch across from him again.

"Thanks," Seth said to her and then hugged Marca again. He looked at Beverly seriously. "Is that guy John going to mind that we're in his quarters?"

Beverly shook her head, feeling a slight jab at the mention of Picard. "No, Jean-Luc won't mind," she said quickly, with a forced smile. She looked down at her hands in her lap.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad," Seth said.

Beverly smiled at him. "No, you didn't, but what a kind thing to say."

"So where is he?"

"I don't know," she said honestly, settling back into the couch uncomfortably. She really didn't want to discuss Jean-Luc, or his whereabouts.

"He's the man in the helmet isn't he?"

Beverly struggled to keep her composure. "Yes…."

Seth's eyes conveyed both fear and sorrow, as he suddenly understood. He got up and sat down next to her on the couch, taking her hand. Marca had followed Seth over, and leaned against Beverly's legs. It was at that moment that Beverly realized she could not hold it in any longer and began to cry.


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52**

* * *

When he rounded the bend he halted, seeing a familiar shape. "Worf?" He smiled involuntarily at the surprise of seeing someone he knew. Worf was facing away from him crouching down.

Worf pointed ahead of him, still facing away. "I believe the Borg have taken Wesley down this corridor," he said gruffly.

Picard felt the thoughts inside his head suddenly grow murky, and unfocused. Worf had beamed up with the rest of Riker's away team, hadn't he? But so hadn't he…until he had found himself lying on top of a cooling lava flow. Maybe Yar had kept Worf behind as part of her game.

He walked forward. "It's not safe here, Worf. We have to keep moving…."

The Borg Klingon suddenly turned on him, growling. Then it stood up and swiftly spun its double bladed weapon over its head, attempting to take Picard's head off with one strike. Picard rolled out of the way, dragging his foot into the Borg's leg to try and trip it. The Borg was too strong and leapt in the air, bringing the giant blade down just next to Picard's face causing sparks to jump up from the deck. He rolled again, un-holstering his phaser, but when he turned face up, the Borg Klingon's foot came down heavily on his bruised chest. A large bubble of pain burst in his chest, and he tasted blood in his mouth. Raising his shaking arm he fired his phaser into the Borg Klingon's stomach, and it staggered backward, and fell down dead.

He spit more blood onto the deck, and pushed himself to his feet, stumbling forward mindlessly, holding the phaser loosely in his right hand. As he approached nearer to his destination, he didn't encounter any more Borg, and he tried to shuffle along as quickly as he could. In the back of his mind he kept saying Wesley's name. He couldn't fall for her tricks any longer. That Borg hadn't resembled Worf in the slightest, and probably hadn't even really spoken to him, yet he had not questioned its realness. It was the power of the Q being used in a cruel manner without rules.

 _Captain Picard…I'm over here_ … his head jerked around, looking for Wesley somewhere nearby, but the voice was just an echo it seemed.

He pressed on until he saw it. It wasn't supposed to be there in the middle of the corridor. But there it was. She had placed another obstacle in his way. Three meters of the hallway was simply missing and had been replaced by a bubbling pool of pink liquid.

Immediately he was hit with wave of revulsion. He sunk slowly to his knees and stared into it, expecting to see a body float to the surface. But there was nothing but the liquid. In his condition, he couldn't leap over to the other side. Pushing all thoughts except those for Wesley out of his head, he dropped into the liquid, trying desperately to keep it out of his eyes, nose and mouth. He couldn't feel anything beneath his feet, and would not have been surprised if there was no bottom to this pool. He had swum halfway across before he felt the sickening sensation of hands and fingers grabbing for his ankles. He thrashed his limbs, panicking for a moment, before realizing he just had to stay calm enough get to the other side a meter away.

Reaching the other side, he pulled himself out of the slime pit and fell face first on the deck. He wiped the disgusting mess out of his eyes, and rose to his feet, shaking the liquid off of his phaser. He blinked and gasped in a painful breath.

 _Captain…._ he heard Wesley's voice again, and by now he didn't know if it was real or just his imagination. It didn't matter, for he had to find Wesley.

* * *

"Anything yet?" Riker stood next to Lt. Diaz at tactical. Before her on her panel was a diagram of the energy grid covering the Borg Base.

"No sir."

Riker turned away, saying nothing. What was there to say? Yar had set up an impenetrable defense. Nothing was getting in or out of the grid, as far as all instruments could determine.

He stepped down the ramp toward the command center. Halting in front of the chair he tapped his communicator.

"LaForge, what's your status?"

 _"Ready to try the tachyon burst, sir."_

"And we can send the pulse while still in orbit?"

 _"Sure thing, Captain. There are some risks though…."_

"…of?" Riker prompted impatiently.

There was a pause. " _Warp core shut down, sir. And... we could also overload the trans warp conduit with tachyons, creating an imbalance and closing up the conduit for the foreseeable future, sir."_

Riker stroked his beard. "Geordi, I'm no engineer, but that sounds like the opposite of what we are looking for, here." he said.

" _Given the circumstances, Captain Riker, the risks are within acceptable parameters,"_ Data's voice interrupted calmly.

"Okay, then…let's do it," he said, sitting down in the command chair.

 _"Preparing the beam, now Captain,_ " said Geordi.

Riker and the rest of the bridge crew watched as a ruby-red beam was emitted from the front deflector dish, extending out into space. After a few moments, the beam dissipated.

"Status," said Riker impatiently.

Riker could tell from LaForge's voice that things had gone well. In fact, the spontaneous laughter in the background was what made it very clear.

 _"Great news, Captain. I think we've got our foot in the door, so to speak. It's a metaphor, Data,_ " he heard Geordi tell the first officer. " _Sir, I do think we will have a way back home. As soon as you say the word, of course sir."_

"Stand by. Good work, LaForge," Riker grinned.

* * *

Picard moved as if inside someone else's dream. He flipped open Wesley's tricorder. Wesley had programmed it to provide a power surge, which gave him an idea. There would be at least two of them, but the phaser alone would not be enough to destroy the third. To destroy…it. He shivered with a renewed sense of rage. He attached the tricorder to the phaser.

The door opened without resistance, and he walked in. The two Borg holding his unconscious son turned to look at him and he shot them quickly. Wesley was on the table. His heart leapt, because from what he could see, they had not hurt him yet, he was only drugged.

Picard leveled the phaser at the familiar horror as it in turn leveled its gaze at him; its green-tinted goggles glowing in the dim light. The familiar hydraulic whirring sound filled the room, threatening to penetrate his brain as the creature descended and leaned out toward Picard, for the moment ignoring Wesley. It extended three grotesque appendages in his direction.

"Human number 131 has returned. Its progeny requires repair. Has Human number 131 returned for additional improvements?"

"I have returned for my son," shouted Picard, "now get away from him." Picard walked forward phaser in hand. The Doctor lowered itself toward Wesley. It stared at his unconscious form through its goggles and then returned its cold stare to Picard.

"Why do humans resist improvement? The Doctor is helpful. The Doctor will make necessary repairs to Human number 43301, just as it did to Human number 131."

Picard shivered at the cold confirmation that thousands of other humans had now been assimilated. What it truly meant was that Earth was soon to be no more. But all he could do now was save this one person; his son. "You'll do no such thing," Picard rushing forward. A snap of purple lightning shot from one of the multiple arms, and hit Picard in his left arm. Instantly the left side of his body went numb.

"Human number 131 cannot be allowed to interfere with the Doctor's work." The sound of a drill whined inside one of its many arms.

With his right arm Picard fired the phaser into the goggled face, incinerating the pale head and leaving a large smoking hole in the torso. Tiny machines quickly began to work to repair the damage. Picard limped forward and quickly pulled Wesley over his shoulder, as his left side began to slowly regain feeling.

"Dad?" Wesley mumbled, still barely conscious.

"Yes, Wesley, it's me," Picard breathed, hugging his body tighter to him. With Wesley hanging limply over his back, he stepped backward, as a second head unfolded emerging from the opposite side of the torso and a second pair of green goggles fixed on him impassively. Pushing a button on the tricorder, still attached to the phaser, he tossed his makeshift bomb into the half-repaired hole in the Doctor's torso. As he backed quickly out of the room, he saw the goggles turn and look down at itself with genuine fascination, just before the room exploded.

Picard gathered Wesley into his arms and began running down the corridor. The pink sludge pit was nowhere to be found and he continued to run as fast as he could until he reached the door to the long bridge. It opened, and he stepped through with Wesley. Running again, he didn't stop until he reached the end of the bridge where Jack lay. Jack laughed, somewhat delirious when he saw them approach. Picard put Wesley down gently.

Still full of adrenaline, he turned and walked back to the middle of the bridge. "Yar! I know you're there. Are you done torturing me? Why don't you come down here and finish your game?" He stared up at the sky, blinking through the sulfurous haze with bloodshot eyes.

"I thought you'd never ask," said Yar, dressed in her old black jumpsuit and standing just paces away near the doorway he had just come from. She offered a sly smile and folded her arms over her chest.


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**

Head down, Picard advanced on Yar without a second thought. She lifted a hand and he was suddenly unable to move any closer to her.

Yar tilted her head at him. He noted that her hair was now cut very short, and seemed a brighter shade of blonde than before. She had a noticeable glow about her. "You haven't thought this through at all, have you Picard?"

He said nothing, but stopped trying to push against the invisible force field she had erected, preventing him from coming any closer.

"I can read your every thought Picard, and you have no idea how to use your power to stop me, do you?" She laughed. "Your supposed hero here has no plan…." she called out, to Jack and Wesley. "He's been _bluffing_ this entire time. He has no idea how to finish this."

There was a flash and she reappeared in a second flash standing over Wesley and Jack. Wesley was just beginning to come to. She knelt down and rested her hand on his head. "What's to stop me from killing them, Picard? Certainly, not you."

"Leave them out of this," he shouted over the hot wind, which seemed to be picking up. The red sun was beginning to set in the distance. "This is between us!"

An instant later she was standing face to face with him. "Picard… egotistical to the last aren't you? This is between whoever _I_ say it's between. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm setting the rules here, not you." She studied his face. "You want to have it out with me, don't you? A 'fair fight', is what you're thinking? How archaic and human of you."

"There will be no such thing as a fair fight unless you can agree not to use your powers," he said staring her down.

"And if you win, then what? I stop what I'm doing and go back to being human? You can't be serious," she scoffed.

"No," he said. "But you must promise to leave Earth alone."

"Hmm." Yar cracked her knuckles and broke into a slow smile. "Fine," she said. "It's been a while since I had a good fight."

She grinned. "So we'll fight for the fate of Earth. But you know I can't promise to not use my powers, Picard…how else will I convince you to use your own?" She lifted her hand toward him and he was pinned fast against the bridge railing. He struggled to get free as she stepped toward him. She grabbed his face with her hand and squeezed. He tried to twist his face away, but her grip was like a vice.

She leaned in close. "Even without my powers I would beat you in a fight, Picard; you know that! And look at you…you're bleeding internally. Right there… " She pushed him in the chest lightly and he gasped. "You know that's not good, Picard, and this toxic air can't help much. Do you really want to fight me in your condition? You'll only embarrass yourself."

"Why are you still trying to get me to use my power?" He said; his voice and body shaking with anger. "Why does it even matter to you? You have what you want already."

"Because you just won't give up, you stubborn son of a bitch. Why should you be the only hold out? You're not even a real Q," she sneered.

"Neither are you, Yar."

She finally let go of his face roughly, and stepped away. She walked away and then looked back at Jack and Wesley again. She turned back to Picard with a grin. "You know what? You're right. This _is_ just between us. I'll send them back to the _Enterprise_ , but for the record, I'm going to also let them watch from on high. They should be able to see your demise for themselves…you know so this time they won't have to wonder for another eleven years whether you're alive or dead. They'll know for certain that you're never coming back."

At least they would be off of this awful planet, Picard thought. He licked his dry lips, and coughed. "Let me say goodbye to them?" He stared at her and she merely shrugged with a slight smile, watching him as he passed.

* * *

He jogged over to where Jack and Wesley both sat up now; Jack in pain and Wesley groggy but awake. He knelt down. "She's going to send you both back up to the Enterprise." He brushed the hair away from Wesley's face. "You both need medical assistance." He studied Wesley. He didn't see any implants, but there was an injection mark in his neck, and another ugly one behind his ear. What had they done to him?

"I'm okay," Wesley murmured.

"Jean-Luc, just tell her to send us all back to the Enterprise," Jack urged him, struggling to sit up. "We'll take the trans warp conduit back to Earth."

Picard's forehead crinkled. "And then what, Jack? The Earth will be destroyed as long as she exists."

"But you heard her, sir," Wesley said. "There's no such thing as a fair fight with her. You can't kill her."

"Jean-Luc, listen to us." Jack reasoned quietly. "Maybe this is the end of the line. Maybe she wins. Wes is right…even if you use your power to kill her…well she's immortal, right? Tell her you want to go with us."

Picard got shakily to his feet. "No, Jack. As long as there's a chance, I have to try."

"Jean-Luc…what about Beverly? I—I won't stand in the way anymore. Just please come with us."

Picard shook his head, looking down sadly at Jack. "Please tell her…."

Jack nodded grimly. "I will…."

Wesley got to his feet suddenly and grabbed Picard into a hug. "I know you can do it, sir."

Picard wished he possessed Wesley's confidence. He put his hand on the back of Wesley's head and kissed his temple. "Go and see your mother. Promise me you will take care of each other…and Jack too." Wesley nodded into his father's shoulder and then pulled away. Wesley went to stand next to Jack, and put a hand on his shoulder.

Picard turned away then, and before he even started to walk away, he heard and saw the flash from behind him, and they were gone.

Yar leaned casually against a broken railing behind him. "How touching..." She cracked her knuckles and straightened. "Ready to get your ass kicked?"

* * *

"Doctor Crusher to the bridge, we need a medical team up here, right away," Riker shouted, as Jack and Wesley Crusher appeared on the bridge out of nowhere. Wesley looked disheveled and was covered in soot colored dust, but he seemed relatively unharmed—at least physically. Jack was wearing an environmental suit and was holding his left arm gingerly. He was standing awkwardly putting all of his weight on his right leg, so Riker helped him over to sit down in the Captain's chair.

"Captain! The front view screen has been activated..." The Ensign at ops frowned looking for a malfunction. "I can't switch it off, sir," he said.

"She's going to make us watch him die," Jack said, quietly, closing his eyes and pressing himself back wearily into the Captain's chair.

"What the-?" Riker turned questioningly to the front view screen as it flicked on. Wesley sat down on the floor, hugging his knees, and staring up at the screen. Deanna Troi moved to stand next to him, and together they stared forward in shock.

Beverly and her medical team burst onto the bridge at that moment. Felix and Alyssa rushed down to the front of the bridge, following her. She saw Wesley first, huddled on the floor sitting next to the helm, gazing transfixed at the main viewer. Too focused on her son, she didn't notice what he was looking at as she rushed to him breathlessly.

He turned and stood up as she approached and they embraced tightly. Beverly was laughing. "Are you hurt?" she asked suddenly, pulling away from him to take a look at his face.

"I don't think so…the Borg injected me with something, some kind of drug though. Here and here," he showed her. "I don't remember." His face was very pale. She touched his neck, and ran her tricorder over him.

"Ow! Easy there," she heard Jack protesting from behind her. Smiling at the sound of his voice, Beverly turned and saw that Jack was seated in the Captain's chair. Alyssa Ogawa was using a bone knitting device on his left arm, and Felix was testing Jack's left knee.

Despite his pain, Jack smiled at Beverly. "Hi Bev…you are certainly a sight for my sore eyes," he said quietly. Beverly glanced at Wesley again, before walking toward him without a word. Deanna put her arm around Wesley's shoulders comfortingly.

She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek lightly. When she stood up, there was an unspoken question in her eyes. Jack winced as Felix straightened his injured leg out in front of him. She continued to gaze at him expectantly, holding Jack's hand. He knew she was trying to hold it together and wasn't going to ask him the question. He looked up into her eyes. "Beverly, Jean-Luc told me to tell you that he loves you…."

Beverly's lips parted and she clutched the hem of her lab coat in her right hand. "Is he still alive?" she whispered.

Jack rubbed his dusty face with his good forearm. Not knowing how else to tell her, he pointed resignedly at the view screen. "He's with Yar….She wants us to watch it."

"Watch…it?" Confused, Beverly spun to look at the screen, and her face turned ashen.

It was an eerie picture. On a red planet with black and red lava flows, two figures dressed in black stood about ten paces apart on a long bridge. The vantage point was just close enough so that she could see that it was Jean-Luc and Yar. "I—I don't understand," she said. "What is happening?"

"She sent Dad and me back up here, Mom. But Yar said she wanted us to see what happened. They're going to fight." Beverly looked back at the screen with alarm. She could see that Jean-Luc was clutching his chest and she could tell that he was injured. She felt herself getting sick.

The turbo lift opened and Walker walked on to the bridge. "What the hell?" he said, seeing what was happening on the view screen. Wesley turned and nodded hello to him, and he walked down to take a seat in the command center.

"Why don't you just fire on the energy grid? Worf asked suddenly. Riker had agreed to let him man a science station, because he had been complaining about feeling useless. Also, Riker guessed Worf's wife was driving him crazy, and he needed an escape. "Perhaps Yar is distracted and the field strength will be weaker," Worf added.

Riker glanced at Jack briefly. He hadn't been relieved of his temporary command yet, and Jack was injured. "Fire phasers at random points along the grid," Riker ordered.

A few moments later, they all struggled to stand upright as the ship was jarred. "Shields up!" shouted Riker, steadying himself.

"Sir, we've taken damage…from our own weapons strike," sir," announced Diaz. "It just bounced off the grid and came back to hit us, Captain."

There was a flash of white light next to Beverly Crusher, who jumped back in alarm.

* * *

"That's what you get for listening to a Klingon, Riker," said the tall dark-haired man who had just appeared. "I wouldn't suggest doing that again if you value your lives—such as they are."

"Q!" Beverly exclaimed. The rest of the crew stared at the new visitor in stunned silence.

"Yes…Doctor Crusher, we meet again. Reports of my death were not only exaggerated, but were also celebrated with shocking enthusiasm in many corners of the universe. Believe me, you have no idea how much you are truly reviled until you die."

"But you're back…so you can stop her. You can help Jean-Luc." Beverly said, looking at Q hopefully.

Q began to pace back and forth. "Actually, I am still hoping he will be able to help me…you see I only have the power of teleportation right now. It seems the Power is uninterested in renewing its Understanding with the Q until Picard works his magic down there against Yar," he said nodding at the view screen.

"So like you, I'm simply here to watch and see if Picard lives or dies," said Q. "It all seems so arbitrary, doesn't it?"


	54. Chapter 54

**Chapter 54**

Furious, Beverly grabbed Wesley's hand and pulling him along, began to march toward the turbo lift. "Q, if you or Yar think I am going to just sit here and let my son watch his father be tortured in some kind of sadistic game, you can think again," she said. "And," she added, pointing at the condescending alien, "You can go to hell."

"True...I _can_ go anywhere," Q agreed. "As I mentioned, teleportation is currently my specialty."

"You're missing the point," Riker snapped. "She doesn't want to be part of this anymore, and neither do the rest of us."

Q shrugged. "It's Picard she wants to humiliate and destroy, Riker. The rest of you...or _us_ I should say, are of no concern to her."

"Come on Wesley," Beverly insisted, as Wesley hesitated and looked back at the screen earnestly. She halted abruptly because the doors didn't open. Letting go of Wesley's hand, she walked over to the conference room, but the doors were unresponsive. "Doors," she shouted," but they remained closed. She tried the same with the ready room, but reached the same result. They were trapped on the bridge. It seemed Yar wanted to extend her reach to everyone Jean-Luc cared for.

Frustrated she turned and looked at her son. "Mom…it might be the last time we get to see him. I want to see," he begged her.

Beverly pursed her lips. "Fine," she said, and to his ears, she sounded defeated for the first time in his life. She walked over to a science station and sat down, facing away from the view screen. "I can't watch," she said, resting her forehead in her hands.

* * *

"How do you want to die, Picard? I can make it painless, if you want. Just hand me your power first," she said, hold her hand outstretched. "Last chance."

He walked toward her. "That's not going to happen," he retorted. Closing the distance, he suddenly lunged for her, throwing a punch. She dodged to the side and his momentum carried him past her. Anticipating the kick she threw at his back, he rolled to the ground and out of the way. Not hesitating she turned and pounced on him, slamming the back of his head into the bridge. His vision blacked out for a moment, and he drew his knees up and kicked her off of him blindly. Shaking his head, he got to his feet just as she recovered and kicked him in the side, pushing him into the railing.

"I expected more, Picard. So disappointing..."

Closing in on him, she threw a powerful punch, whistling past his face. Reflexively, he reached up with both hands and grabbed her arm and twisted. To his surprise he was able to use her momentum to send her flying over his head and off of the bridge. He spun around and gripped the railing staring down into the lava flow she had just disappeared into. Gasping, he backed away from the railing, unsure of what to expect next.

* * *

Beverly jerked her head around as the bridge erupted in cheers. She stood up, and turned her attention hopefully to the screen.

Wesley had jumped to his feet excitedly, grabbing Jack, who was still seated. "Did you see that? Did he get her?"

Jack looked up at his son wordlessly, and wrapped an arm around the boy's slim waist, wishing he could offer him more protection. He couldn't believe his eyes anymore where it came to Yar. He could see that Jean-Luc was laboring already, and the fight had just begun. "Can we get a transporter lock on Jean-Luc?" He ventured, afraid he already knew the answer.

"Negative, sir," said Diaz. "The grid is still in place."

Beverly turned slowly back around to lean against the science station.

* * *

"Picard!" He looked to his right and saw Yar at the far end of the bridge, where Jack had been lying so recently. "Looking for me?"

Glowing red gobs of lava were dropping away from her as she walked toward him slowly. Her skin and uniform were apparently untouched by the heat of the molten rock, but the same could not be said for the surface of the bridge they were standing on. Each drip of lava hissed and smoked its way into the deck beneath them, creating multiple holes. She wiped the rest of the material off of her as if it were simply dust.

Picard backed up cautiously. He could see that she was holding something in her hand. He ducked just in time, as she raised her hand and threw a glowing handful of lava in his direction. It whizzed over his head, and landed, spreading out on the deck and gradually burning a three foot hole in it. He scrambled to his feet, just as she threw another one.

"Ah!" He spun away, somehow avoiding it.

"You're quicker than you look, I will give you that," she snorted, walking toward him at a leisurely pace. "I thought you would be bleeding uncontrollably by now," she said. "Oh well," she said with a shrug. "There's still time for that I suppose," she said, shaking the remaining lava from her hands.

Picard backpedaled slowly. "You said earlier that you wanted to take my power because I wouldn't give up, like the others from the Continuum. But I don't think that's the only reason, is it Yar? You're afraid I might actually defeat you…that your command of this power is not complete after all."

"Talk, talk, Picard. You talk a good game," she said shaking a still-smoking index finger at him. "But if you think you can psych me out, you're a fool. Have you forgotten I have an unlimited intellect?"

"How could I forget," said Picard. "You keep reminding me."

Suddenly she was in front of him; she gripped his shirt collar in her hands and lifted him off of the ground. Her knuckles were still extremely hot and he cried out in pain as they grazed his skin, burning him. "I'll keep reminding you Picard, until you understand," she said and tossed him away from her effortlessly.

He rolled when he landed and then pushed himself slowly to his hands and knees. He sat back on his knees and looked up into the sky, wishing that he could see Beverly just one last time before it was over. He was growing very fatigued, and it was difficult to breathe not only because of what he guessed was his fractured sternum, but also from the sulfurous air he was breathing in.

Yar walked toward him. "You're going to die anyway, and you know it. If what you want is to see your girlfriend one last time, why don't you just use your power and make it happen?" She crouched down next to him. "Or I could just bring her down here…how would you like that? You look like you could use a good doctor…."

"No!" he shouted and lunged at her with a ferocious swing, catching her in the face. He jumped to his feet and kicked her in the stomach sending her careening backwards.

Swaying on his feet, his vision blurry, a thin scream suddenly pierced the air. Someone was down below the bridge. He ran to the railing and could see now. A woman with flowing red hair was standing on a small slip of solid land. All around her now was a lake of fiery lava. "Beverly!" He screamed desperately.

"Jean-Luc," she cried out. He gripped the railing and looked on in confused anguish. He had to save her. But was it really her?

Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder. "You may never know, Picard...whether it's really her," Yar whispered in his ear. "But one thing is for sure...you can't save her from here...unless you use your power."

He closed his eyes and felt the Power warming in his chest. Yar was right. He couldn't win. He couldn't be sure it wasn't Beverly, and if he didn't act soon, she would perish. He opened his eyes and the glow was all around him. He turned and looked into Yar' s eyes, which now shone a frightening white.

"Do it," she urged him in a whisper. "Or she dies."

Suddenly he chose. "No! I don't believe you!" He pushed her away, just as the apparition of Beverly disappeared.

Yar jumped to the side and then spun a kick into the side of his face, snapping his head to the side. He staggered, and the world went from red to grey as he lost consciousness for a moment. He fell into the railing and stared down into the lava watching it swirl in slow motion. Or was that his brain swirling? How quickly would he be killed if he fell in, he wondered?

Sensing her behind him, he swung a wild spinning backhand, which missed her by a mile. She grabbed both his arms from behind and twisted, lifting him into the air, and then he felt his insides drop sickeningly as she slammed him to the deck with a clanging thud.

He got to his feet somehow, facing away from her, feeling almost robotic in his resolve. He had lost all sense of why he was there, and what he was doing. Putting his hands up defensively, he moved in and threw a few clumsy jabs at her. She swatted at his hands, and he only managed to land one more punch, before she kicked him in the side of the knee, causing him to crumple to the deck in pain. She reached down, grabbing the back of his head and slammed him forehead first into the deck. The world turned black.

* * *

When he awoke, Yar was nowhere to be seen. Slowly he rolled on his back and tried to clear his head. One of his eyes was sealed shut and his head was ringing. His breathing was becoming too difficult. The only thing he could think of doing was to hide. But there was nowhere to hide, even if such a feeble tactic would work against a Q.

He tried to get up, but his right knee was out of commission from that last kick. He began to crawl toward the far end of the bridge. It took him several minutes, it seemed, and he had to avoid the smoking gaps where lava had seeped through, but finally he reached the area where he had pulled Jack up onto the bridge. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and leaned his head back against the railing. He knew that he was dying. His lungs and chest were too damaged from the air and from the fight. Where was Yar?

"Right here," she said, suddenly leaning over him. As she had done with Q, she thrust her hand into his chest suddenly. He screamed as she closed her fist and began to retrieve a ball of glowing white light—his power. He gripped her wrist with both of his hands tightly.

You could say that the idea came to him in an instant. It was actually a good thing that he hadn't conceived this particular thought before, because by the time he did it was much too late for her to read his mind and stop him. Closing his eyes, he felt the light envelope both of them, and then suddenly he was somewhere else.

* * *

An audible gasp resonated through the Enterprise bridge, when Picard and Yar disappeared in a bright flash of light. Beverly finally turned again and looked at the screen. Her heart sank even lower, seeing that he was gone. She stood up silently, mirroring the stance of the rest of the people on the bridge. All except for Q, who turned away from the screen and raised an eyebrow conveying an expression of legitimate surprise.

"If you will excuse me," he said. "I have someplace I need to be." And with a very bright flash he was gone.


	55. Chapter 55

**Chapter 55**

* * *

As Beverly Crusher walked slowly toward the main viewer on the bridge she felt as though all the color had gone out of her surroundings and the air had exited her lungs forever. But then as she looked up at the screen which had now gone black, she took another breath in. She was still alive, and she had to keep on living for Wesley.

He turned and looked at her and the tears in his eyes simply broke her heart. "Mom?"

He wanted her to make everything alright, but for once, it was impossible for her to do so. So she took his hand and said nothing.

The heavy silence on the bridge continued until the beeping from tactical made Riker turn around. He felt like he was underwater, and he struggled to take a proper breath and steady himself. He thought of Picard in that moment and realized he had just lost a good friend. Dazed, he stared at Lt. Diaz expectantly. Poor Diaz; he would see to it that she received a promotion if they ever made it through this.

He fixed his gaze on the forward view screen, and almost fell over. An unmistakable blue and white planet floated in the center of the screen.

"Status!"

"We're...Captain, we are in orbit around Earth. And we're being hailed...its Starfleet Command," she reported in shock.

 _Yar?_ "On screen," he said flatly.

Never before and never again would he see Vice Admiral Nechayev with the expression she wore right then. "Riker, what happened? What did you do?" She appeared both elated and confused at the same time. Exhaustion was etched in her sharp features.

Riker rubbed his jaw, feeling just as confused himself. "…do? Admiral, what do you mean?"

"The Borg ships surrounding this planet just disappeared, Riker...around the time the Enterprise reappeared. And my…my assistant who I saw die in front of me yesterday…he's alive. Thousands of people have reported in Riker, and they say…they say their missing family members just showed up on their doorsteps. People who were confirmed killed by the Borg on the attacks down here have seemingly been resurrected as well."

Riker's jaw dropped. "What?"

"The damage to the physical structures we've built has been nearly catastrophic, Riker. But structures and ships can be rebuilt. The environmental harm they caused can be healed with our help. All we know here on Earth is that something very miraculous has just happened, and there are no more Borg sightings confirmed in this quadrant."

Riker turned to Beverly and began to laugh. "Picard…my goodness…he did it after all. He did it!"

Beverly's lips were trembling to the extent that her words hardly exited her mouth in a coherent sentence. "If he did it, then _where_ is he? Why isn't he here?" She wrapped her lab coat around herself tightly. She was glad Riker could celebrate, but even a victory over the evil they had just seen seemed hollow; it meant nothing to her if he was not there to share in the victory.

* * *

 **Thirteen Years Before on Turkana IV…**

These were sensations he had not felt in years. The feel and smell of wet grass on a warm summer night, just as dusk was settling in. He opened his eyes and breathed in. It felt wonderful, and there was no pain. He reached up and felt his face. It was fine, and his head didn't hurt either. Amazing. He blinked a few times quickly. Suddenly he heard an approaching ship and a feeling of fear shot through him. Scrambling to his feet, he ran for some underbrush and dove in, finding a quick hiding place.

Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a brief burst of white light hovering near the ground, but then it disappeared. He squinted as the bright red landing lights of the shuttle burst into view, and a furious wind began to kick up as the shuttle began to taxi in for landing.

Lieutenant Gilda Stern and her partner Ensign John Sorensen stepped out of the shuttle cautiously. Her communicator chirped at her. "Stern," came the pilot's voice, sounding both annoyed and worried. "Things are heating up downtown. We're about to be very vulnerable any minute now," he warned.

"I know, I know," said Stern. What a shitty assignment. This place was a dump, and full of murderers, rapists and mayhem. How anyone could be expected to survive, she had no idea. She brushed her short sweat-soaked hair back, and checked her phaser, setting it to stun.

Sorensen pointed off to the east. "I saw one run over there. Couldn't tell if they were armed or not," he said.

Stern nodded. "Let's move out," she said, moving quickly away from the shuttle.

The two officers ran quickly, hoping to beat the fading light. But soon they had lost their target, and after circling the area twice, the only company they had was that of peeping frogs, and tiny biting gnats.

"Wow, this is the life," Sorensen remarked, slapping his neck too late to catch some kind of biting insect. "Think I can get a permanent assignment on this tiny piece of paradise?"

"Shh!" Stern thought she heard something in the bushes nearby. She straightened. It had been nothing. "Just be glad you don't have to live here permanently," she scolded him.

"Home sweet home," he muttered.

Not listening to her sullen subordinate, Lieutenant Stern crouched down and then pointed into the darkness. "Over there. Let's go."

Sorensen followed without a word, realizing Stern was now all business. An exacting personality, an intimidating commanding officer, a fastidious dresser both on and off duty. Her short hair was never out of place. Everything about her was sharp and to the point. She was to be admired, and everyone he knew did admire her. Even the worst assignments she was given, she performed without complaint—at least outwardly. And at least in Sorensen's young career, this was one of the worst assignments.

Phasers held at the ready, they crept toward the asymmetrical shape, barely visible in the fading light.

"My name is Lieutenant Gilda Stern…I am a Starfleet Officer. This is my partner Ensign Sorensen, and we are here to help you," she called out, turning her headlamp on. Sorensen did the same. There was a scampering noise, as the dirty shed was now illuminated. The size of the now visible insects was slightly alarming, but Stern waved her free arm around to clear the way in front of her as she stepped carefully through the marshy ground toward the shed. She paused. "I think it was a human girl. Let me go in first," she said to Sorensen. He shrugged.

"We're with the United Federation of Planets," Stern called out. "Martial law has been declared, and we are here to ensure that anyone who wants to leave this planet has safe passage."

Inside the makeshift shelter, the girl sat crouched with her knife hanging loosely down. Her eyes were focused on the entrance to her tiny hut, but her hand lazily drew swirling lines and figure eights on the sandy floor with the point of the sharp knife. When they came in, she would kill them. It was that simple. The perverts had been chasing her all evening, and now that they were outside her house, she wasn't going to fall for some story about starships and federations. Did they think she would be tricked by a woman's voice? Women could be evil too. She had experienced that first hand. She would not be fooled.

Oh, how she had wanted to see it tonight. And they had ruined it for her. The bright star. Now how would she see its light? It was the only thing that comforted her, and now they were here, preventing her from her comfort. She waited, but they wouldn't leave, and after a while she began to wonder if there was really was such a thing as Starfleet, and a way off Turkana.

Years later she would look back and ponder the exact moment she turned; when she dared to trust for the first time. Maybe she would not remember the exact moment, but she would remember that it happened that night. Perhaps it had been seeing Gilda's distinctive silhouette for the first time leaning in to her doorway. Gilda who took her in and cared for her like a big sister, and taught her to feel affection for the first time in at least ten years. Gilda, who inspired her to enter Starfleet and to make something of herself.

All those years ago, the Jean-Luc Picard of the future watched from a secluded area, as a skinny teenage girl, walked willingly with her new protectors toward the safety of a waiting shuttle. After a few moments, the engines powered up with a burst and the shuttle lifted off and was away quickly. He covered his mouth, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the moment. Somehow, he had known what to do. But had it worked?

* * *

"You did well, Jean-Luc," the voice said gently. He turned from his crouching position to find Q standing behind him.

"Did it work?"

"You mean did you stop Yar from being kidnapped by the Q? Did you prevent her from empowering the Borg to destroy all of humanity? Did you prevent the destruction of Earth? Did you send the Borg back into the Delta Quadrant without their peculiar fascination with human beings? Did you restore balance to the Q Continuum? Yes…you accomplished all of those things. But don't let it go to your head. You are still an incredibly flawed man."

"But I tampered with the past," Picard said. "We were always told that is the risk of time travel—affecting the future. How can I know for sure…."

"That what you've done won't affect time as we just knew it minutes ago? I suppose we'll see, won't we?"

Picard nodded, and stood up. He ran his hands over his chest carefully. "I'm healed…did you do that? I thought I was dead, frankly."

"I was on the bridge of your ship-"

"The _Enterprise_?"

"Yes, I said your ship…."

"Q, the _Enterprise_ is Jack's ship," Picard insisted.

Q smiled. "Hmm…right, for now, I suppose."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Q waved an annoyed hand in his face. "Silence, Picard! Please, I am trying to tell you…I was on the bridge of _Jack's_ ship, when I saw Yar stick her hand into your chest, and it was at that moment I perceived what you were going to do. And as soon as you set the idea in motion, the Understanding became clear again. The Q were restored. So yes, I healed you. After all you had gone through I thought it only fair that you live to see the effects of your decision."

Picard stared at him and broke into a slow smile. "I am not sure whether I should be thanking you, or you should be thanking me…."

Q sighed with a shrug. "The best solution is for neither of us to say anything, Picard. Now, are you ready to go home to the future?"

He smiled widely at that. "Oh, yes."


	56. Chapter 56

**Chapter 56**

He turned around slowly in a circle. The field of white was familiar, but instead of feeling welcomed home, he felt alarmed. "Where am I?" he demanded to know. It couldn't be….

"The Continuum, of course," said Q, who blinked into existence beside him, still displaying his human appearance.

"But you said I was going home…." He blinked and looked down at the long white robe he was now clothed in. Picard looked at Q with open confusion and a more than familiar feeling of betrayal.

"You _are_ home, Picard. You're in the Continuum," said Q.

He shook his head. "No, I need to be returned to the future…to where I was, Q," he said beginning to feel and sound desperate.

"But this _is_ the future, Picard. It is the future you chose to create when you had Yar rescued by Starfleet fourteen years ago, instead of kidnapped by the Q."

"So then why am I here, with you?"

Q made a face. "Why must I always explain these things to you, Picard? It is an absolute travesty to see a great mind like yours turn human again-"

"Q!"

"You are here with me, because in the timeline you have created, Yar was never with the Q, therefore she never caused the imbalance that you corrected in the last universe you were in, don't you see?" Picard stared at him silently, a feeling of dread beginning to pervade his soul. "You are here because the Borg had not emerged as a threat influenced by one of our own…because Yar was never one of our own."

"And so you never had any need to eject me from the Continuum. I never left."

"Now, you're catching on," said Q sounding delighted.

"But I still have a connection to the Borg. I remember what they did to me eleven years ago. In fact I remember everything, including everything about Yar."

"Yar had nothing to do with your original abduction by the Borg, so I am afraid those memories will always be with you. And of course you remember everything else, you are a Q."

"But I don't want to be..."

"What do you want?"

His voice began to shake with emotion. "To return to my family. To Beverly and to my son..." He wrapped his arms around himself, and leaned over, suddenly feeling completely alone.

"Your son does not know you in this timeline, Picard. In fact, Jack and Beverly never told him that he was your child. The only father Wesley has ever known has been Jack Crusher—as awful as that sounds. He remembers you only as the stoic and undoubtedly boring Captain Picard from when he was five years old, when you died. And he and Beverly and Jack all believe you to be dead—just as before."

"And if I choose to go and see them now?"

Q shrugged. "Your choice, of course. We will be disappointed to see you leave again, but the Q feel in your debt, Picard. They would not prevent you from fulfilling your wish to be with your family. A bit limited though, if you ask me…."

"But I would have to start new with them. They would have to experience me coming back from the dead again?"

"Of course," said Q. "But the good news is, the relationship between Beverly and Jack in this new timeline has deteriorated to the point that it will be much easier to convince her you are worth leaving Jack for."

"Q…that's certainly not what I want!"

"Removal of the competition? Why not? An added bonus, if you ask me."

"Jack is my best friend Q…despite everything we've been through. Maybe even because of it…."

"I will try not to be hurt, Picard. I had always presumed that I was your best friend," Q said dryly.

Picard shook his head, but said nothing for a moment.

"And Yar?"

"Thanks to your decision, she's now inconsequential in this new timeline. A dull Starfleet officer Picard…just like you used to be."

"If I was to return…I can't put them through all of that again. I'm not sure if I can go through it all again. The revealing of old secrets. The turmoil…the pain. The only difference would be that I _want_ to be there from the start. But what if they reject me? What if they don't want anything to do with me?"

Q frowned. "So you don't want to go back to them."

"No, of course I want to go back to them…but I want to go back to the point in time right after I last saw them."

"Picard, do you not comprehend what you are saying? None of those horrific events would have happened, had Yar not first taken her interest in the Borg while she was a Q. She would not have overcome the Q or wreaked havoc on the Alpha Quadrant. I thought you considered the consequences when you made your choice."

"Q…what exactly were _you_ thinking when Yar stuck her hand into your chest, stole your power and shoved you out into space? I acted the best I knew how in the moment I was given; that's all."

He paused and looked at Picard as though he was just seeing him for the first time. " _How_ you could ever want to go back to that life just amazes me Picard…."

Picard frowned and looked at Q, walking closer to him. "What did you mean when you said it would be 'limited' for me to return to my family?" There was something Q was not telling him.

Q stared at him. "I had hoped to not have to discuss this with you, Picard. I had hoped that you would simply want to stay with the Q this time."

Picard paced away from him and then back again. "What is the rest Q? Tell me the rest."

"Well, there is the problem of the _failsafe_ …."

"Failsafe? What failsafe?"

"Yar apparently developed a final catch. If she was eliminated from the reality in which you defeated her, she ensured that all other realities would, well for lack of a better word, cease to exist. "

Picard closed his eyes raising his hand. "Let me get this straight…you just told me that I could return to a reality where Yar is now simply a Starfleet Officer, because I just ensured that her future with the Q would never happen."

"Correct," said Q.

"But you are also telling me that this new reality and all others will simply stop also because I defeated her?"

"Not simply…no it will take some time, depending on the complexity of each reality. But yes, eventually they will all cease to exist."

"Well then why aren't you worried? The Q are a part of reality just as much as humans, or any other species. If reality ceases to exist, so will you."

Q shrugged. "Yes, but there are a nearly infinite number of realities, Picard. The Q can move from reality to reality as necessary. As I said, it will take some time for reality as everyone knows it to disappear. Before then, we certainly hope to find a solution to this problem."

"But you're in no rush to find one now, I see, damn you! Meanwhile do you expect me to sit up here with you in the Continuum and watch them all disappear?"

Q raised his chin, looking mildly offended. "You've got the power of the Q still, Picard. _Do something_ …."

Picard closed his eyes tightly, and put his hands on top of his head and squeezed. He had to think this damn thing through. Then suddenly he opened his eyes and dropped his hands to his sides. "What if… Yar never disappeared from the reality in which she tormented us all?"

"You understand that she would not naturally exist in that world beyond the point when you both disappeared."

"Yes…but what if I returned to the reality just before I eliminated Yar, and a new Yar were substituted at the exact moment? Would that resolve the issue of the failsafe?"

Q smiled slightly. "What you are suggesting is quite risky, Picard. A new Yar, presumably good and upstanding now existing in a world that her previous self nearly destroyed?"

"So she could never become aware of the crimes her alternative persona committed," said Picard.

"It is an intriguing idea, Picard…."

Q folded his arms and leaned very close to Picard. "Is this really what you want, Jean-Luc?" He studied Picard's face. "Yes, it can be done…but it could be quite messy. And even I can't say what will happen in the future."

"I don't have a choice, Q. We're talking about the end of the universe as we know it…and even in all the ways we have _not_ known it, ceasing to exist."

"I know, Picard, you would think we would both be bored with saving the universe at this point. So the next question is, if you were to implant this new Yar into your old reality, who do you want to have a memory of Yar's exploits?"

Picard paused. "I know it sounds strange, but only a handful of people actually know that Yar was the driving force behind the Borg aggression. Those on the _Enterprise_ who were aware of her connection to the Borg and to the Q—I want them to know. They deserve to remember the truth as it happened. But not everyone on the _Enterprise_ was even aware of who she was…no one else needs to know," said Picard.

"And what of Admiral Nechayev?"

Picard frowned. If Nechayev knew about Yar's reappearance would Natasha Yar ever truly be given a chance to advance through the ranks of Starfleet without the Admiral preventing it? "It may be more difficult _not_ to tell Nechayev. I think that it is best if she knows, but perhaps I should be the one to explain it to her."

"Fine," allowed Q. "But the memories of those around Nechayev and in Starfleet Intelligence will need to be wiped clean of all reference to Yar, except that Yar is a Starfleet Officer on the rise. The only way to properly do this Picard is to meld two realities together. Yar, the Starfleet Officer's reality, melded with the reality you left on board the Enterprise. This new Yar cannot ever be allowed to know of her exploits."

"Well, I sure as hell am not going to tell her…assuming I were ever to meet her."

Q smiled. "Are you sure that you want to do this, Picard? It will take some time between the two of us to perfect the details. And the future is so uncertain."

"When is it ever certain?"


	57. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57**

"He's been missing for five days," she said, shoving some clothes quickly into a suitcase. She sniffed in, feeling tears coming to her eyes again as they had repeatedly done since she saw Jean-Luc disappear in a flash of light with Yar just days before.

"Is that why you have decided to leave, Beverly?" Deanna asked softly.

"Well, you're leaving aren't you?" Beverly shot back almost bitterly, trying angrily to close the overstuffed case. She refused to look at her friend. "And now Jack's taken Wesley. I have nothing left," she said, her voice cracking. She stopped and sat down on her bed, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead, as tears threatened to stream down her face.

"Oh, Beverly," said Deanna, moving to her side. She rested her hand gently on Beverly's back. "Jack just took Wesley to San Francisco with him temporarily, you know that. And yes, Will and I are going back to Betazed, but only for the remainder of my pregnancy. Then, I promise you, we will have a wonderful reunion."

Unable to think of the future, Beverly shook her head, and got up again, moving around her bedroom, grabbing seemingly random items to throw into the suitcase. "Jack's furious. He thought I would reconsider signing the divorce papers now that Jean-Luc is…now that he's gone. How could he put me in that position Deanna? Trying to make me feel guilty? Well, I signed those damn papers, and I'm glad that I did. Now at least I'm free."

"Free to do what?" asked Troi. "To go where?"

Beverly finally stopped and looked at her. "I don't know."

"Will you at least let me know when you get there? So that I know you're safe?"

Beverly forced a smile. "Of course." Deanna smiled back and moved to embrace her.

* * *

 **About one week later...**

Picard flashed into view in Admiral Nechayev's temporary office at Starfleet Academy. She turned around with a puzzled frown at the sound. She stood up, wide-eyed as recognition set in. "Well…how truly amazing. Is it really you, Picard?"

"Yes, Admiral, it's me."

"So all of this, the sudden retreat of the Borg, Yar's disappearance; do we have you to thank?"

He nodded slightly. "I changed history. The problem is, Yar saw to it that if she was eliminated, she would take everyone down with her." He explained his original decision, his trip to Turkana of the past, Yar's devious catch, and what he and Q had just done to attempt to even things out.

He could tell that Nechayev was deep in thought, because she said very little while he spoke. "And so do you regret your decision to change Yar's history?"

"No. I did what I did to prevent Yar from becoming the tyrant that she was…to reverse what she had done and how the Q had shaped her. And knowing what a horrible childhood she had, I wanted to give her a second chance; a clean slate so to speak."

"Which is how she became a Starfleet Officer?" He nodded. "So, you are saying that if I was to look up Yar in the personnel database…."

"She would be there, yes. But not the Yar we know," said Picard. "And she must be given a fair chance to live her life."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the fewer people who know that she was behind the Borg aggression, the safer our universe will be. And she must not know either," said Picard. "So for all but a select few, we've attempted to erase all knowledge of Yar as we knew her."

"' _We've_ attempted'? Meaning you and the Q?" She asked. He nodded.

She looked him up and down. "And so, are you still a Q, Picard? You certainly sound like one."

He wasn't sure what caused him to pause, but he did. "No, of course not."

Nechayev held his gaze strangely for a moment. "Alright," she said. "Then your secret, or rather Yar's secret is safe with me.

"Thank you Admiral."

"Captain, I think that I should be thanking you. Were it not for your efforts recently—all of them-we would not be standing here talking to each other."

Picard nodded. "And as usual, it has been a pleasure, sir."

Nechayev smiled and tapped her desk top. "You know, it is quite convenient that you should teleport into my office at this moment, Picard."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I was just trying to resolve a staffing issue. Perhaps you can be of assistance."

"Oh well, I am not in Starfleet anymore, as you well know, Admiral."

"Yes, and that happens to be directly related to my staffing problem."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Admiral."

"I have a starship that is in need of a Captain," she prompted. He continued to stared at her blankly. "The _Enterprise_ , Jean-Luc!"

"Ah...I see. What about Jack?"

"Jack Crusher resigned his commission. And he's taken an indefinite leave from Starfleet."

Picard did not even try to keep the shock from his voice. "Oh. Well, what about Riker?"

"Riker took a voluntary demotion to Commander. It seems he is quite the family man now, and once Counselor Troi gives birth in several months, they both intend to return to service. But apparently he believes being a Captain might take away from being a father." She paused looking at him quizzically. "It seems he is using you for a role model, Captain. Eleven years ago, I simply never would have imagined you as the family type."

"Is that a compliment, admiral?"

"Yes...I think it is."

"Well, thank you. Because eleven years ago I never would have imagined receiving one of those from you."

"It turns out that people are actually capable of change, as you personally have shown us to be true, Captain. Although, I hesitate to apply the same theory to your new and improved version of Yar."

"Come what may, I'll take responsibility for my decision, Admiral."

She smiled. "Perhaps people don't truly change, come to think of it. Now...am I going to have to beg you to take the _Enterprise_ out of space dock?"

Picard laughed abruptly. "Beg me? I daresay people don't change _that_ much, Admiral."

Nechayev pursed her lips trying to hold back laughter herself. "I need your answer, Picard." She demanded, quickly growing serious again.

He looked down. Until now he hadn't seriously considered commanding a starship again. But something began to stir in the core of his being. "Admiral, I am very honored by your offer, and I promise I will seriously consider it. Could I have a week to think it over?"

Nechayev looked as though she wanted to shake him, but she nodded in agreement. "Fine, you have a week."

They fell silent for a few more moments, and a subject he'd been thinking about came back to him. "The children from Marca II...where are they?" he finally asked.

Nechayev stood up and walked toward Picard. "For now, they're being kept in what's left of Starfleet medical while it is rebuilt around them." She saw his eyes flicker slightly at the mention of Starfleet medical.

"I am sorry, Captain, but Doctor Crusher isn't at Medical right now. In fact, if someone would ascertain her whereabouts it would be of great help to my colleague admiral Finn at Medical. Technically Doctor Crusher has been absent without leave. Of course under the circumstances I have a feeling she will be forgiven..."

"I suppose Jack would know where she is. Perhaps I should go and see him."

Nechayev nodded. "Jack has taken charge of the civilian rebuilding efforts. It's a big task, but I can tell already he is up to the challenge."

"Of course he is. Well, I should be going now," Picard said, turning to leave. He turned back. "It's good to see you, Admiral; and to be back."

"Likewise Picard. We missed you dearly."

* * *

Picard walked into the temporary infirmary set up for the Marca II children, and looked around. He wasn't completely sure of what he was doing there. Perhaps it was a residual feeling of connection with the children based on his previous experience with the Borg or a feeling of continuing responsibility for their welfare.

Gradually he began to feel strange and out of place. These children would have no reason to know him. There were many children in the large room and none of them seemed interested in his presence. Satisfied that they were at least safe and in recovery, he turned to leave.

As he started to exit, he jumped, startled by the sound of a loud bark. His felt an intense joy at the sound of Marca's voice. He turned back around to find Marca standing wagging her tail as she looked at him. Beside her was the boy Picard had pulled from the first Borg pod. Picard recognized him immediately. His smile faded slightly as they studied each other silently. He guessed the boy was about ten. "Jean-Luc?" the boy ventured.

His eyebrows shot up. "Yes...but how do you know my name?" He stepped forward and stuck out his hand for the boy to shake in greeting. The boy shook his hand and he was amazed at how fragile and small his hand seemed. But the boy gripped his hand firmly perhaps trying to overcompensate for what he knew was his frail appearance. For her part Marca seemed to know the boy very well and seemed content to sit near him.

The young boy looked up at him with clear eyes. "Beverly told me," the boy said simply.

Picard felt his heart begin to race with joy at the mention of her name. Trying to calm his nerves, he crouched down and ruffled the fur around Marca's neck. She licked his face. Still crouching he looked up at the boy. "What is your name, young man?" He asked.

"Seth," said the boy.

"Seth, Beverly is a great friend of mine," he said quietly. "So I am glad you spent some time with her."

He resisted the urge to ask all of the questions that came to him about Beverly; how she was doing, where she had gone...

"Do you...do you remember when we first met?" He ventured carefully, not wanting to cause Seth any more pain than he had already experienced.

Seth nodded. "You were the only one wearing a helmet. You opened the hatch. I remember your voice. I'll always remember it. Beverly told me how you saved Marca with your special powers. I changed her name to what you had been calling her because I like it better. It's the only thing we have left of our home."

Trying to avoid a display of emotion, Picard lowered his head for a moment and then smiled and stood up. "Have they been able to locate any family you might have here on Earth?"

Seth patted Marca absently on head. "I don't have anyone else. Mom was killed by the robo—by the Borg, and I never knew my father. All I know is what my Mom told me about him."

"Is he here on Earth?"

"No. I don't know where he is. And I don't want to."

Picard scratched his jaw. Absently he realized that he was growing a beard, and he hated it. He knew better than to push the boy, but it was a concern if he had no family. "And you know of no other relatives?" he asked gently.

"No," said Seth. He looked at Picard. "How did you get away from the Borg? Beverly said they took you. Did you use your special powers?"

Picard cleared his throat. He didn't quite feel comfortable telling the boy about Yar. "Um…yes, I suppose so."

"Do you still have them?"

Picard frowned. "What?"

"Your powers…." Seth looked as though he was hoping for a demonstration.

Picard shook his head. "No. Look, Seth, I am…concerned that you and Marca don't have a permanent place to go. What have the adults here told you about where you might be living?"

"They said I would be put up for adoption."

Picard leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. He scratched the back of his head and looked at the floor. He was still staring at the floor when Seth spoke again. "Where's Beverly? Is Wesley with her?"

Picard looked up quickly. "I don't know," he admitted. "I have to go and find them."

"Can we go with you?" Both Seth and Marca looked at him expectantly.

The question didn't register right away. "You know my son? You know Wesley?"

"Yeah, he beat me at three dimensional chess."

Picard laughed, and then quickly grew serious again. He looked at Seth, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Wait here."

* * *

"Are you a Starfleet Officer?"

"No," said Picard.

"Occupation?"

"None."

"Are you the boy's relative?" The slim grey-haired man in a matching grey suit barely looked up from his computer screen.

"No," said Picard.

"Finally, a _good_ answer," said the man. "Because these records show that he has no relatives on Earth."

"Well that makes this very simple then," said Picard calmly. "I want to become the boy's guardian."

"It's _not_ that simple," the man disagreed. "You'll need to put in a proper application and then wait another 30 days."

"Why 30 days? You already know that he has no known relatives."

The man smiled thinly as though Picard had just become the bane of his existence. "I said he has no relatives on _Earth_. And 30 days is the required waiting period when there is a known relative—in order to allow the relative a chance to appear."

Picard began to pace the small space of the office, trying to keep calm. "Who's the relative?"

"His father. According to this record…the boy's father is a human trader. His mother was also a trader—species unknown."

"I thought his mother was human," Picard said frowning.

"Well…that's probably what the boy thinks," said the man with a condescending smile.

Picard took a deep breath. "What do I need to do to make this work? The boy doesn't want to know his father. It should be his choice."

"And he chooses you?" the man was incredulous. "A strange man off of the street who just appeared out of nowhere, no credentials…not even a member of Starfleet…unemployed and somewhat _disheveled_ …of course he'd choose you," the man drawled.

Picard ran an irritated hand over his face. "What do you know about the father?"

"As I said before, he was a trader. Based on these records he had some bad debt and sold the boy's mother to some Orions. Eventually she ended up in a refugee camp where she gave birth to the boy and later on was relocated to Marca II."

Picard felt his neck and face growing hot. "His father _sold_ his mother? And you're waiting 30 days for this bastard to show up?"

"We have policies to observe—"

" ** _You will this minute, stop citing your inane policies and simply do the right thing!_** " Picard shouted at the man. In that instant the man froze, eyes wide, his hands hovering over his computer.

A shock went through Picard as he watched the man just as quickly unfreeze, and then tap at a data pad, which he then handed to Picard with a sincerely apologetic smile.

"Here you are, sir. So sorry for the delay. Your guardianship records are now in order."

Picard tried to hand the pad back to him. "Wait, I didn't mean…" he trailed off still not quite sure what had just happened. "I'm sorry."

The man stood up with a wide smile. "Have a wonderful day, Mr. Picard."

Picard tucked the data pad under his arm and slowly backed out of the room. "Thank you," he mumbled. As he stepped out into the hallway, he took a halting breath, his hands shaking. He looked up at the ceiling. "Q!" he whispered angrily. "Why did you intervene? Answer me!"

 _I did nothing, Picard. That was all you…._

"What? I didn't ask for this."

 _Consider this our lasting gift to you, Picard._

"Q!" There was no answer. He took the turbo lift back down to the infirmary and rushed in to find Seth and Marca waiting in the same spot.

"Are you certain you want to come with me?" Picard asked, leaning down to grip the boy's shoulders. "I cannot promise you a stable place to live. In fact, I think we may be moving around often and at very high rates of speed. I can't even promise that I will be a good parent. But I will take care of you. I will protect you."

"And Marca too?"

"Of course," said Picard with a nod. "Ready?" Seth nodded.

"Alright, let's go."


	58. Chapter 58

**Chapter 58**

* * *

On the way to Jack's apartment, Picard and Seth sat silently in the hover cab. The vehicle was much too small for the dog, who somehow seemed even bigger than the last time he'd seen her. She shifted from one leg to the other periodically turning around in circles to make herself comfortable, slapping both humans in the face with her bushy tail. Seth smoothed her fur pensively while Picard stared out the window.

He had been thrown completely off center by the incident with the bureaucrat. How dare the Q impose this upon him? Would Nechayev even want him to Captain the Enterprise anymore if she knew what he was really capable of? Should he tell her? He wished he could ask Beverly her opinion. He could trust her judgment better than his own about all of those human rules which were no longer familiar to him. She would know what to do. But where was she? He doubted he could hold off the desperation move of using this new power to find her.

So he sat stone-faced staring out the window, afraid to think too hard about anything that came to mind, to avoid using the power of the Q. It was strange, for he did not feel he knew everything, did not feel he could see into the future, and yet when provoked he had made that obnoxious man do exactly what he wished. Already he regretted dragging Seth along. Exposing the boy to his personal problems was unfair. Instinctively, he moved away from the boy, wishing he could limit his influence.

He wanted a conference with Q right away to settle this matter once and for all. He was uninterested in the power-didn't want its burden. At that moment, despite, or maybe because of his ill feelings, he felt a warmth come over him and he felt like he was being embraced by gentle arms. He turned his head slightly to find Seth staring at him open-mouthed. "What?" he asked a little too sternly.

"You're _glowing_ , Jean-Luc..."

He looked down to find a white glow emanating from his chest. "Oh..." He tried to will it away, with no success. He covered the glow with his hands, and it responded by growing brighter. The warmth continued in an almost comforting way, until he yelled, "Just stop! Please..."

"Who are you talking to?" Seth asked looking perplexed, but not in the least bit scared. "I thought you said you had no special powers anymore..."

"I-I thought they were gone. I wanted them to be." Slowly the glow lessened and he returned to feeling as he had before. The truth was, the warmth that had spread through his chest had been a wonderful feeling, but he didn't want the responsibility that came with it. He told himself that he no longer wanted to be a Q. _Why?_ An innocent voice inside him seemed to ask. "Seth...please do not tell anyone what just happened to me. At least until I can figure out what I'm dealing with."

"Not even Beverly?"

Picard turned his body toward the child. "Will you really tell her if I decide not to? I don't think she would appreciate knowing I kept something so important from her."

"Why would you keep something like this from her? You should be proud of it. At least, that's what I think."

"Well for starters, she's afraid that I will return to the people who gave me these powers. The Q."

"Oh...but why don't you tell Beverly? She's a doctor…maybe she can help cure you." Picard closed his eyes. If only he could see her, everything would be alright.

The hover cab slowed to a stop. Picard turned to Seth. "You can come in with me, or you can stay here while I talk to Jack. You will be safe here." The robot driver turned and nodded mechanically at them from the front seat.

Seth shrugged. "I'll stay here," he said easily.

Picard nodded. "I'll only be a few minutes." He hopped out of the cramped cab, and the doors shut and locked behind him. The vehicle powered down and lowered to the pavement, parking itself.

Once outside, he squeezed his hands into fists at his sides. "Q…I've had enough of this back and forth, game of Q or not a Q. Where are you?"

 _Picard, from one friend to another, I have to tell you…I lied when I said this was a gift from the Q. It's not…_.

Picard hesitated as he began to mount the old stone steps to Jack's apartment. "What do you mean?" He tried to keep his voice low. He was aware how odd he must look to passersby, talking to himself. He reminded himself that he had to present an appropriate role model for both Seth and Wesley now, and talking to the thin air in frustration on a regular basis would just not do.

 _Picard, when you altered history, the Power was very impressed with your work. The Q feel indebted to you for restoring the balance to the Continuum and allowing the Q to renew our Understanding with the Power. Apparently the Power feels the same way._

"So, that feeling I felt a few moments ago…that warmth…"

 _That was the Power, Picard. It is trying to convince you that having it around can have many benefits. It wants to be your partner._

"So I am not exactly a Q, then? I don't feel like one anymore…at least not quite."

 _Well…no you are human. But the Power is quite enamored with you. I'll admit I am a bit jealous, Picard. It wasn't too long ago that the Power was considering abandoning me in a dark cave._

Picard sighed. He couldn't think about this right now. He was about to go and see Jack, who no doubt still believed him to be dead. He felt nervous and jittery. He walked up the rest of the steps and hesitated before hitting the door chime. Just before he did so, the warm feeling came back to him ever so slightly, and he felt a renewed sense of confidence.

Many houses still had old-style wooden outer doors, and Jack's home was no exception. After a few moments he heard footsteps and the door opened halfway. To Picard's surprise, it was a woman who greeted him. But that was the least of it. There was no way to hide his astonishment and shock at the sight of familiar face from his past. "Jenice?" he nearly whispered.

"Jean-Luc? My God…Jack said that you were…." She turned halfway around and called out over her shoulder, her eyes still wide with shock. "Jack! Come quickly!"

"What is it babe?" He heard shuffling footsteps and suddenly Jack appeared, looking as though he had just recently showered and was wearing a bathrobe. He rubbed a towel behind his ear and leaned into view. Seeing Picard, he dropped the towel and yelled something unintelligible.

"Jean-Luc? What…."

"Yes, Jack, it's me."

Jack stared at him for a moment before grabbing him into a hug. "I knew it…I knew you were alive."

Picard pulled away from him stiffly. "How are you doing? Have you recovered?" He asked looking at Jack up and down.

Jack ran a hand through his wet hair. "Um, yeah…I'm fine. Completely recovered." He shifted his eyes quickly to Jenice and back to Picard again. "What happened to you? What happened to Yar?"

Picard gave him a quick summary of his previous two weeks in the Q Continuum.

Jack shook his head. "Amazing. So, Yar is gone, yet still with us. So now what is in store for you, Jean-Luc? Are you planning on taking command of the _Enterprise_? I'm sure that Admiral Nechayev has already leaned on you a bit."

Picard shrugged. "I don't know yet," he said quietly. "I was surprised to hear that you gave up command, Jack."

Jack looked at him. "You shouldn't have been surprised, Jean-Luc. You were made for a life in Starfleet, and I wasn't. I need to take some time to figure things out. And there is so much rebuilding to do after the Borg attacks. We didn't have the chance to defend Earth when we were trapped in the Delta Quadrant, so I am planning now to give everything I have to restore it."

Picard nodded. "That's very admirable, Jack."

Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. "Look…uh Jean-Luc, have a seat in the living room, I'll be right back. You two can catch up," he said, acknowledging for the first time that Jenice and Jean-Luc were well known to each other.

Jack left and Picard stood stiffly for a few moments before Jenice guided him into the living room and they sat down.

Jenice smiled at him. He was amazed at how she looked so similar to when he had last seen her more than fifteen years ago. She was still beautiful, her golden hair still vibrant. But the feeling of puzzlement still would not leave him. Jenice Bertrand was his first love. What was she doing here with Jack? Were they lovers? And if so, for how long?

"Jean-Luc…you look so young. I just wasn't expecting you to look the way that you used to."

He looked at her. "I was away for eleven years. I look, I suppose as I did when I was abducted by the Q."

"Yes, Jack has told me all about your experience."

Picard turned his head to look at her sharply. "Has he? I'm sorry, Jenice, but I don't think that Jack really knows anything about my _experience."_

"Jean-Luc, I'm sure that it's been difficult between you and Jack, you know, because of Beverly…."

He stooped to his feet. "Oh, has he told you all about that too?"

"Well yes...he was devastated when Beverly left him for you."

He paced away. He could feel himself becoming angry, and the most important thing, he told himself, was to not make a scene. Sighing internally he walked back to her and sat down on the couch. He clasped his hands in front of him, resting them on his knees. He stared neutrally off in the direction from which he hoped Jack would soon re-appear.

"You don't seem happy to see me," observed Jenice quietly.

"I have to say, I'm quite… shocked myself to see you here with Jack, Jenice. And believe me, all I have _seen_ lately are shocking things. I can't remember you and Jack having exactly been the best of friends…and I thought you were married to Professor Manheim."

"Oh…well I _was_ married to Paul for years. But his behavior became obsessive. He could think of nothing but his time experiments, and eventually I left him about seven years ago."

Picard smiled tightly at her. "And many years have you been sleeping with Jack?"

She jerked back as though he had slapped her. They both looked up as Jack walked back into the room, now dressed. He looked from one to the other, obviously trying to ascertain what had happened while he was out of the room.

Picard stood up. "Jack, I have to be going now. I'm glad that you are well…." He nodded at Jenice. "Jenice, good to see you," he said tensely and turned to leave.

Jack moved in front of him and put a hand on his chest. "Jean-Luc, I know why you came. Beverly was here. She said she wanted to see about the school, and took Wesley with her three days ago."

"School?"

"She never told you about the archeology school she started in Paris, did she? Well…if I had to guess, she's either gone to Paris…or to LaBarre, to see Marie. They got to be good friends after you were taken by the Q years ago."

Picard looked down at his feet. Beverly had started a school? And even he hadn't met Robert's wife Marie, and yet Beverly was good friends with her. These revelations reminded him that the world had moved very fast without him over the last eleven years and he had a great deal of catching up to do.

Jack handed him a small data pad. "Everything you need to know about the school is in here."

Picard took the data pad, and then looked back at Jack. "Thank you," he said, and the sentiment was real. Jack nodded.

"Jean-Luc, give me a call when you figure out your plans," said Jack, holding the front door open. "No matter what, let's keep in touch."

Picard nodded as he backed out. "Of course," he said. "Goodbye, Jack."

* * *

"Did you find out where Beverly went?" Seth asked Jean-Luc, as climbed back into the hover cab. As soon as he shut the door, the engines whined to life and the cab lifted into the air.

"Yes," said Picard, turning to smile down at Seth. "We're going to France." The robotic driver turned to look at them.

"Where to, sir?" it asked.

"Labarre, France, please," said Picard. He was going to follow his gut that she and Wesley were at his childhood home. He had spent years away from home and now somehow it seemed like the right place to go. Once he saw Beverly and Wesley he knew things would be set right. He smiled just thinking about it. When he looked over at Seth, he saw that the boy was also smiling happily.

"Very good, sir," replied the driver. "Our estimated time of arrival is 20 minutes." Picard reached over and fastened Seth's safety harness. There was a whooshing sound as the cab lifted up very high into the air over the roofs of the surrounding buildings, and he felt a slight pulling at his innards as the cab put on a burst of speed and they were off.

Seth looked at him. "Can I tell you something?"

Picard turned slightly, although restrained by his harness. "Yes, of course. What is it?"

"I feel like you and me…we're the same."

"Oh? I'm glad that you feel that way. But why?"

"Well you and I were both taken by the Borg and they did things to us that changed us. Once you come back from something awful like we did, it's almost like you don't belong in the world you left behind. Don't you feel that way?"

Picard nodded. "Yes, many times I certainly have, and still do. Perhaps you're right, Seth. But I do know one thing about you."

"What?"

"You do belong in this world. And I am glad you are here with me."


	59. Chapter 59

**Chapter 59**

It was early evening when they arrived in his old hometown. Because it was summer the light was golden and still had a few hours left before it completely faded. As he walked down the winding paths toward his home side by side with Seth and Marca, he considered for the first time in ages, the unsatisfactory relationship he shared with his brother.

His childhood home was, for all purposes now his brother Robert's home. He wondered; did Robert have children now? He hadn't talked to him in fifteen years, and even then it hadn't been in person. And although he now knew that Robert had married a woman named Marie, he had no idea when they'd actually been married.

He would have to prepare himself for the barrage of emotions that would inevitably come once faced with his brother for the first time in two decades. His brother was older than him, but would now appear even older, which would no doubt cause friction. Robert had always been jealous of him, and he didn't expect for some kind of broad understanding to come out of one meeting. Besides, he was only here to find Beverly and Wesley, and if they needed to leave right away, they would.

"Seth, I have to warn you, I don't get along well with my brother."

"Oh that's too bad," said Seth, not sure why that required a warning from Jean-Luc.

Jean-Luc seemed nervous. "No, I'm just telling you, because I don't want you to emulate my behavior which will be undoubtedly bad."

"I don't get it. If you know your behavior is going to be bad, can't you just avoid acting that way?" Seth asked.

Picard fell silent as they walked a little farther. "You've never had a sibling, have you?"

"No," said Seth.

"Well then, try not to use me as an example," said Picard.

Although early evening, it was still very warm. He could tell that it would be humid even late into the night. Picard had forgotten how long of a walk it was from town to his family's vineyard. He'd ordered the cab to land in the town so that Seth could have the full experience of Labarre in the summertime, but now as the boy began to drag along behind him, he reconsidered the wisdom of having chosen the long route. The orange haze was turning darker, and he squinted at the sun falling lower in the sky off in the distance.

"Are you growing tired?" he asked Seth.

The boy quickened his steps stubbornly. "Not really."

"We're only about a half mile away from home," he said, silently wondering again if it would still feel like home when he arrived there. He looked down at Seth again. He could tell the wiry boy was an athlete, but his young body had been neglected and his strength depleted during his imprisonment by the Borg. "You know," he said gently, "It is alright to admit it if you're tired. Goodness knows it's been a long day."

Seth did not answer, so Picard continued to walk along, when he felt a bump against his side. Looking down, he saw Seth was walking eyes half-closed and was bumping drowsily into Picard. Picard put his hand on Seth's shoulder and the boy looked up at him trying to blink away his fatigue.

 _Good_ , thought Picard with a small smile. _The boy is as stubborn as I am. He'll fit right in where we're headed._

Reaching down he picked Seth up into his arms. He was light enough that he probably could have carried him the rest of the way under one arm, but the boy had long spindly legs and it was a bit awkward. No need to embarrass the boy. "Here," he said, stooping down so that Seth could climb onto his back. "Put your arms around my neck and I'll hold on to your legs." The boy complied, and Picard stood up straighter. "There…better?" He felt Seth nod into his neck and it made him smile as they walked on.

He opened the door to the house slowly and it creaked inward. Seth stirred on his shoulder waking from a nap. Picard walked into the foyer and stopped, still holding the sleepy boy in his arms. "Jean-Luc?" He turned at the sound of a very familiar voice.

Walker Keel approached him cautiously as though he was a ghost. "Is it really you?" his friend whispered. Walker wasn't sure if his heart could take two resurrections of Jean-Luc Picard in less than one month.

Picard smiled. "Yes, Walker. Good to see you my friend."

Walker shook his head, unable to stop smiling.

"I'm Walker, Jean-Luc's old friend. And who might you be, my friend?" he said nodding at the boy who Picard was carefully lowering to the floor.

Seth stood on wobbly knees and rubbed his eyes looking around. "I'm Seth," he said, shaking Walker's extended hand. "Are we here?"

"Yes," said Picard. "This is where I grew up, Seth."

Walker held his hands up questioningly. "Jean-Luc? This is the most understated reappearance. What happened? Obviously we are all still alive, and the Borg are gone, so you did something right."

"Walker, it's a long, long story. Perhaps a bit later?" Walker nodded. "I need to see Beverly and Wesley. Are they here?"

Walker laughed. "Of course, of course. Jesus, I just can't believe it….listen Wesley is in the other room hanging around with Renee—"

"Who's Renee?"

"Your nephew…Robert and Marie's son. Looks to be about Seth's age."

"Oh," said Picard, embarrassed. "Of course."

"And Beverly went for a walk about an hour ago. She said she wanted to see 'the stream'. I wasn't really sure what she was talking about, but she seemed to want to be on her own. You know how she can get."

"And Robert?"

"He and Marie are out for the moment. Said they were going to bring back fresh bread for dinner."

Picard took a deep breath. "Alright, then…let me go and see Wesley, and meet my nephew."

He stepped into the living room and could feel a nervousness threatening to overcome him. Wesley and a smaller boy with sandy hair very similar to his own were sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing some kind of game. Wesley jumped to his feet as though propelled. "Sir!" he shouted, and ran toward him. He stopped a few feet away from Picard.

"Hello, Wesley. It's so good to see you."

"Sir…you're alive, I just can't believe it." Wesley covered his eyes, trying to prevent himself from crying, but it didn't work. Feeling awkward but not caring, Picard walked forward and embraced his son.

"Believe it," he said squeezing Wesley tightly. Wesley pulled away finally, wiping his eyes. Embarrassed, he gestured toward Renee.

"Um, this is my cousin Renee…your nephew." His eyes widened, seeing Seth walk into the room cautiously. "Seth? What are you doing here?"

"Hi Wes…." Seth said somewhat shyly.

"Hello, Renee, nice to meet you," Picard said, waving at Renee. "I suppose I'm your uncle," he said awkwardly trailing off.

"Papa's not going to believe this," Renee said grinning. "Everyone thought you were dead. Now Papa can yell at you in person instead of telling stories about how you used to drive him crazy."

Picard smiled slightly at the thought of Robert telling stories about him. "Wesley, Seth is coming to live with me."

"Great," said Wesley genuinely. Then his expression grew solemn. "But where are you going to be living? Aren't you going to be staying with me and Mom?"

Picard froze. He really hadn't thought things through properly. It was a fantasy, he realized to think he could start a family so easily with Beverly and Wesley and now adding Seth into the mix. What if she wasn't interested in having another child? He had made the commitment to bring Seth with him, and that wouldn't change, but the reality was that he was desperate to be with Beverly. And he had no idea how she would react. "I…I don't know, Wesley. Look, I've got to go and talk to your mother." Wesley nodded. "Are you going to be alright staying here?" Picard asked Seth.

Seth nodded. "Yeah, sure."

* * *

By the time he reached the stream, it was dusk and with all of the trees it was much darker than he had anticipated. He looked around and didn't see her, and for some reason he began to feel an irrational fear. What if she had slipped and fallen into the stream? No, no, she was an excellent swimmer. He walked forward and still saw nothing. Then he felt the pleasurable warmth spread throughout his body again and his chest began to glow…and then his whole body.

Suddenly everything around him was illuminated, and the could see her standing in front of him about 20 paces away. She had turned toward him, presumably because of the sudden light, and then she screamed. Aside from Yar's decoy Beverly, he had never heard her scream, and certainly she was not the screaming type. After she stopped screaming she turned quickly angry. "Holy shit!" she shouted.

The light faded. He knew instinctively that the Power had been trying to help him. It had reacted to his fear that he couldn't see Beverly anywhere, and had literally created light to aid his vision. Now, he supposed, there would be no keeping his secret from her. He had planned to tell her about his current situation, but hadn't wanted her to find out by being frightened.

As his power faded and they faced each other in the low light, he took a halting step forward. "Beverly, I'm so sorry if I scared you," he called out to her. "I didn't cause that light on purpose, I promise you."

"How do I know it's really you?" she called back sounding guarded. "If this is Yar playing a game with me, I don't care if she's immortal…I _will_ kill her."

"No, Beverly, it's not Yar. It's me, Jean-Luc."

"Prove it."

"Prove…?" he mumbled, unsure of what he was supposed to do to show her it could only be him. "Uh…you have a small birthmark, on the underside of your—"

"Yar knows everything, including where all my birthmarks are, I would imagine. Try again."

"You're right," he said, his voice beginning to crack. "She knows everything. So you're just going to have to trust that it's me. Yar is gone—at least the Yar that threatened to destroy our world. It's me, Beverly, and I love you. Please believe me."

She took one step forward. "Why were you glowing just now?"

He stood still. "Q told me, that after Yar was defeated the Power became somehow attached to me. It wants to be with me and I cannot seem to convince it to leave me alone. It seems to react to my moods, and I do think that it is trying to be helpful. Just now, I was looking for you. Walker told me you came to look at the stream, and by the time I reached this area, it had grown so dark that I couldn't see you. At that moment, I felt this warmth spread throughout my body, and then my body gave off a glow…and I saw you."

She took a few more steps toward him. "I want to believe you, I do. But I don't think I can take you disappearing from me anymore."

He walked toward her but she was still hesitant. "Beverly it really is me…and I am here to stay. I promise you."

"After all the things that have happened to you-if it is you—how can you promise me something you have no control over?"

"I've left the Q permanently, Beverly. They're different now and they understand. They won't be coming for me anymore." He took another step forward and seeing that she was staying still now, he took a few more. Within moments they were face to face.

She reached out tentatively with her hands and placed them on his chest. "It is you," she whispered, her voice full of so many emotions.

He reached up and gripped her hands tightly. "Yes, it is. It's me."

Beverly seemed to struggle to take a breath. "Did you go and see Wesley?" He nodded and she suddenly threw her arms around his neck tightly. "I missed you so much. I thought I would die." He dropped his face down into her neck and breathed in, feeling as though he was going to faint from joy.

"Yar's gone. She-"

She reached out and touched his lips with her fingertips. "Shh…I don't even want to know. Tell me the details later." She reached her arms around him and pulled him closer, kissing him. He felt almost senseless with love and desire for her and when they fell to the ground together he didn't even feel the impact. Instead he felt as though he was floating with her. Moving over her, he felt her hands everywhere on his body and all he could hear was their breathing, the soft noises she was making and her whispers in his ear urging him on.

When it was over they lay on the grass side by side and looked upward as the stars started to come into view above them. After a few minutes, she asked, "Do you ever want to go back up there in a starship?" She grasped his hand in hers.

"I was going to ask you what you thought about me taking command of the _Enterprise_. Admiral Nechayev has asked me to do so. But I didn't want to give her an answer until I spoke to you."

"Jean-Luc, I'm touched that you wanted to ask me first. But I think you already know what you're answer is…what it should be. You belong up there, you know. Just like your brother belongs here, you belong up there."

"Perhaps you're right. But I can only do so under one condition."

"What's that?" she asked.

"That you and Wesley come with me. I need you both with me."

She squeezed his hand. "Of course Jean-Luc. We will. But it might not be right away."

When she spoke the words his heart took a painful beat. He was glad for the darkness, because a lump caught in his throat. "Why?" he asked quietly.

Beverly squeezed his hand tightly. It almost broke her heart to hear the suddenly bewildered tone of his voice. "It's this thing with Jack. We still have to work out the details of the divorce, some of which may naturally include Wesley. And, I already spoke with some people at Medical and I agreed to help with the rebuilding effort. I thought...well I guess I needed work to think about something other than the fact you were missing."

He nodded, although she could barely see him. "I understand," he said dully.

"Jean-Luc, I promise it will only be for a few months at the most. When does the Enterprise ship out anyway?"

"Six weeks," he said brightening somewhat. She was right, it would only be a few months and then they would be back together. He squeezed her hand and they fell silent again.

After a few moments she propped herself up on an elbow and was again looking at him, although now he sensed her amusement. He turned to look at her. "What?"

She reached out and traced her index finger down his bicep. "You know…a few minutes ago when we were…well you seemed different."

"Different? How?" He sat up, stiff from lying on the uneven ground. Thankfully they hadn't even taken all of their clothes off, or he would have had to light up his chest again just to locate them, it was now so dark.

She smiled, her teeth flashing in the dark. "Now don't take this the wrong way, because you were very good before…but somehow you're even better now. You said something about the Power…I'm just saying you might not want to give it up so quickly if it has those kinds of benefits." She began to laugh boisterously.

He shook his head and laughed and got to his feet reaching down for her hand. "I don't even know how to respond to that," he said pulling her up and into his arms again.

"I can think of a few ways," she mumbled, kissing him for a few moments before breaking into laughter again.

Unable to stop himself, he suddenly let out an abrupt laugh in response. "Okay," he said. "We should be getting back to the house. You know, if Robert is going out of his way to go and bring back some fresh bread, dinner should be worth it."

"And we'll never hear the last of it if we miss it," she said putting her arm around his waist as they began to walk back through the fields.

He laughed again. "It sounds like you know my brother better than I do now," he remarked.

"Well, after you disappeared eleven years ago, Jean-Luc, I got to know Robert and Marie very well. And Renee was born ten years ago just a year after they were married. He's grown up with Wesley."

"And Robert? You even get along with him?"

"Yes…I love him dearly. I mean he's sort of like an older, less attractive, only slightly grumpier version of you."

"Less attractive…hmm I can't wait to tell him that," he said.

She punched him lightly on the arm. "You had better not! Did I mention he's also taller than you?"

"Hey!" he sounded insulted, but then laughed again. "Beverly," he said growing thoughtful. "Jack gave me a data pad with information from the archaeology academy you created in Paris." She nodded, smiling at him. "The fact that you would think of me, and name the school after me…I am just so moved. Thank you," he said.

She tugged at his arm. "At the time it was the only way I knew to celebrate who you were—who you are. I knew that archeology was a love of yours, and I wanted others to know that love."

"It is wonderful, thank you."

He could almost feel her beaming in the dark, as they approached the house. With all of the lights now on inside, it seemed almost out of a dream that he was back here after all of these years.

* * *

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the prodigal son returned to the country homestead at last," Robert Picard announced as Picard and Beverly stepped through the doors. A lovely woman, whom Picard assumed was Marie, stood beside him. She shot her husband a meaningful look, but he ignored her. Robert walked toward Picard with his arms folded over his broad chest. "You know, little brother I thought I'd never see you walk through those doors. How long's it been?"

"Fifteen years or so," said Picard. "It is good to see you though brother," he said. Politely he turned to Marie. "And you must be Marie, how lovely to finally meet you—"

"Would you believe he graduated first in his class? Amazing that he figured out you were my wife so soon after walking through that door. He's a bloody genius," said Robert with a sideways glance at Marie.

"Robert," Marie scolded him. "Are you going to ever let your poor brother get a word in?"

Robert fell silent glowering at Jean-Luc who just stood there. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself? Are you back from the dead or just passing through again? You're keeping this poor woman in suspense," he said nodding at Beverly who smiled weakly in response.

Picard smiled tightly. "I'm back from the dead," he said quietly. "And for the last time," he added.

"Good," said Robert. "Now, I would say you must be hungry. Come and have some supper with us, Jean-Luc. And you'll be happy to know that boy of yours has already had three servings himself. A spindly little thing right now, but he's still growing of course."

Beverly turned with a perplexed frown toward Jean-Luc. He opened and closed his mouth unsure of what to say, mortified that he had forgotten to tell Beverly about Seth. At that moment Seth stepped out of the dining room, gnawing on a large piece of crusty bread.

"Hi Beverly," he said casually. But in his eyes it was evident that he was very happy to see her, and relieved it seemed that she had been found.

"Seth…" Beverly turned to Jean-Luc again questioningly.

"There was nowhere for Seth to go. So I became his guardian," he said quickly.

"And you're planning on bringing him aboard the _Enterprise_ with you?" she clarified. He nodded. She raised her eyebrows at him again, and he could tell that it was probably a good thing she was finding this out in front of other people. "Mm hmm…well I think we'll talk about this later, Jean-Luc," she said.

She smiled at Seth then and walked back into the dining room with him. "You have some dirt and grass on your shirt," Seth said to Beverly, helpfully reaching up to brush off her back.

Robert laid a heavy hand on Picard's shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. "You recognize that you are in trouble, don't you? And right now you are thinking of a means of escape or a way to avoid more trouble. It's not going to happen," said his brother, clapping him on the back solidly and following Beverly.

Marie put a hand on his arm and looked up at him with a genuine sweetness. "Welcome home."

The meal was delicious, and Picard realized that it really was the first meal he'd had since returning from the Continuum a few days ago. Walker made a toast to his return and to the future. He let himself drift happily through light-hearted conversations, and took in the comforting sounds and smells of the room. He knew now that he needed to experience these basic sensations and feelings in order to survive, and most of all, to be happy. And so, in the final toast of the night, he raised his glass, "to happiness."

The End

* * *

 **Epilogue**

 **Several weeks later...**

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat at his ready room desk. He was brooding and sullen. The only thing he could think about was when he would be able to see Beverly Crusher, when in reality he was supposed to be thinking about staff rotations. Technically the two subjects were related, since he was expecting Beverly to re-join the crew as CMO. He had just ended a call with Beverly, and at least, he thought with excitement, she would be coming aboard within the month.

He only hoped that they would be able to return to Earth to pick her and Wesley up on schedule. The _Enterprise_ was headed to investigate some strange distress signals near Orion territory, and he hoped the mission would be more straightforward than it sounded.

Frowning, he returned to his task of filling out the crew complement. He had received a call from Will Riker a few days before, and Deanna was expecting her baby girl within the next three months. The two men had carefully avoided the subject of whether Riker and Troi would be interested in a transfer to the Enterprise.

Currently, Data was First Officer, and although there was a need for a permanent science officer position, he didn't like the idea of demoting Data, who had proved invaluable. He would need to discuss it with him, of course. Perhaps a lateral transfer, where Data retained his rank of commander, but was no longer second in command. He knew he was getting slightly ahead of himself, as he and Riker hadn't yet broached the subject of Riker taking the First Officer position.

In any case, he knew that he would need to sort fill the rest of these positions within the next month or so. His screen blinked at him. Lt. Diaz had been promoted following her service in the Delta Quadrant and given Jack's departure she had chosen to transfer off ship. That meant someone suitable was needed at tactical. The list of potential candidates was displayed on the screen, most of whom would not be available to transfer for months. He couldn't wait that long. They were all impressive; all with exemplary service records.

His screen blinked at him again as he scrolled down. "Transfer request," said the computer. "Transfer request," it repeated. The screen stopped scrolling and Picard's face fell as he read the information quickly. Swallowing he read it two more times. "Please indicate whether you Accept or Reject this candidate?" Picard tapped his screen almost without thinking and almost instantly regretted it.

"You have indicated you wish to reject this candidate. Please state the reason for your rejection," said the computer. His hand hovered over the pad. "None," he said quietly.

"Lt. Natasha Yar is requesting transfer from the _USS Columbia_ ," said the computer. "Please indicate whether you will accept or reject this candidate." Again his hand hovered over the control. Closing his eyes he dropped his hand onto the pad. And he hoped that he had made the right decision.

 **To be continued...**


End file.
